Titanic Rose
by Bohemian Anne
Summary: A story of Rose's life after Titanic.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Rose was almost frozen as she felt herself being pulled into the boat. The men were grunting as they tried to drag her wet body from the cold clutches of the ocean. It was silent now, except for a few small waves that passed by. The quiet sounds they made echoed in Rose's mind, as though she were inebriated on some kind of strong liquor. She knew what that was like. But this feeling was quite overwhelming. It was hard to explain. She felt her feet leave the cold water and enter the freezing air.

The chill was terrible, and Rose shivered with so many thoughts. Her mind was clouded. Everything echoed, everything was slow. Nothing seemed to move the way they usually did. She wanted to cry out and say, "Stop it! Be normal!" But nothing stilled her dizziness, nor the nausea she felt. Her stomach fluttered with an old illness, and she wanted it to go away. She wanted everything to go away. The world seemed so abstract. It was hard to believe it was real.

The boat pulled away from the bodies, perhaps to return in the morning. Rose know she would never see her beloved Jack again, not even if she prayed with all her heart. Her shoulders began to shake and she knew she was about to weep again. But she couldn't. Rose had promised to be strong, and she would be, if it meant never to cry. She knew the times of only the purest happiness. And if that was the way it was meant to be, then that was it. After all, you never knew what hand you would be dealt in life.

Rose smiled to remember Jack's words. Everything he said was music to her ears, and she longed to hear more. If only he were here beside her, comforting her and telling her it would be all right. But he wasn't, and Rose was about to drift into unconsciousness again.

A cry in the dark. A scream muffled as it got further away. The silent screams of those who were no longer there, but really were. That was all Rose could hear in her deep sleep. All they wanted to do was live, and that had been too much to ask. It was over. At least, her life with Jack. But what about Cal? She grimaced and forced these thoughts to unclog her mind. Her life was with Jack under the water, and she knew that was what she wanted. Rose couldn't be bothered with thoughts of Cal or her mother, and never wanted to be reminded of this voyage, ever again.

XXXXX

All Rose remembered was waking up to the early morning dawn. The sky was a gorgeous shade of pink and yellow, like a painting. She had forgotten what had happened in the previous hours until she felt the sense of cold drill through her body. Her hands were like ice, and her hair glistened with the beads of frost. Her skin was white, and her entire body was numb. She felt as though death had swept over, and still let her hang by a thread. It was not pleasing, and she wished she had died. Perhaps she would be warmer then.

"A ship!" a voice cried. Startled by the sudden outburst of excitement, Rose attempted to sit up. She was immediately pushed back by an officer.

"Please," he said. "It would be better for your health if you remained lying down. You are weak, and barely conscious."

"Don't tell me how I am!" Rose snapped angrily. "I just wanted to see what the commotion was about. I think I can decide how I feel." Her voice cracked, for it had frozen.

"And how do you feel?"

"Awful."

"Well, it looks as though you'll be saved," the officer told her. "The Carpathia's come to our rescue."

"There she is!"

"But I can't even move!" Rose cried. "How am I supposed to board a ship like this?"

"I could help."

"I don't trust you. Who knows where you will place your hands?"

"I am not in this for pleasure, Miss. I did not greatly enjoy being thrown into this mass of water we call the Atlantic. You should be happy I offered to help. You aren't the only one who lost something."

"And what, pray tell, did you lose?"

"My wife of three months, that's who," the officer replied with a look of solemnity on his face. "I tried to help her in, but I couldn't. I couldn't find her, and she found me. I was the last boat, and she almost made it in, but..."

"I'm so sorry," Rose started. "If I had known—I wish I could take back what I said."

"Well, you suffered a loss as well. I guess I was expecting an explosion like that."

"You must think me rude. I'm really not, or at least don't mean to be."

"I don't think you rude. You are suffering, is all. My name is John Wilkes. You?"

"Uh..." Rose stuttered. If she told him her name, he might report her to her mother and Cal. Then where would she be? "Jane."

"Well, Jane, it looks as though we are about to go down in history as survivors of the most tragic shipwreck in all of history, eh?"

"I hope not."

XXXXX

Tea? Perhaps coffee? No, that would only keep her awake, and all Rose wanted to do was remain in a deep sleep until they reach land. Tea would have to do.

Those around her on the deck of the Carpathia were those from steerage. The passengers who had been already on board would glance at her. Their faces were mixed with different feelings, some pity, others with questions. Rose tried to avoid the stares and diverted her eyes.

The woman next to her continued to weep. The daughter dried her eyes. Rose recalled seeing them on her visit with Jack to steerage. What a wonderful night that had been! But now it was the past. She hated it!

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

The words raced though her head, echoing from every wall of her mind. She couldn't get them to leave. They were permanently etched in every crevice of her humanly existence.

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"Stop," she mumbled to herself. "I can't take any more of this."

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"No!" Rose sprang from her seat, spilling tea around her feet on the deck.

"Are you quite all right?" asked a voice.

"John!" Rose cried. "What are you doing here?"

"Just searching. I thought perhaps Maria—"

"She'll show up. Trust me. Maybe you weren't the last boat. Maybe someone picked her up from the water. I heard rumors of another ship."

"Thank you, Jane, but I am not a very optimistic person. Did you lose anyone?"

"Yes." Rose saddened a bit. "The love of my life. He died in my arms before I whistled for the boat. He didn't have a life vest."

"Ah," John said. "I'm sorry. I hope everything works out for the best."

"I do, too."

What was to come after that day was unexpected, and certainly not in Rose's near plans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The dusk had fallen over the sky. Rose felt her heart sink. Jack was gone. No denying the facts now. Looking at the others, she felt she had experienced nothing compared to them. But she still felt horrible inside. Tonight they would reach New York, and Rose could grieve properly. She knew no one, however, that she could go to without anyone notifying her mother. It was important that her existence remained erased in history. Perhaps, years from now, she could write to her mother and tell her she was all right. But it wouldn't be now, not when she could be married to Cal at any moment.

"May I take your name, love?" asked a man. Rose look him up and down. He carried a clipboard, and was taking names of survivors for the papers. She decided what she would do after all. No one would ever know.

"Rose. Rose Dawson."

"Thank you, love." The man walked away. She stared up at the statue. So full of freedom and promise and hope. A pillar of strength. Rose was happy to be back in the country she loved. But without Jack.

"_When the boat docks, I am leaving with you. I know it's crazy, but..."_

"Jane?"

"Oh, hello, John," Rose replied. "There is something I must tell you...about my name."

"I know it's not your real name," John started, smiling. "I just wanted to see how long it would take before you never answered to Jane."

"You are so cruel," Rose joked. "My name is Rose. Rose Dawson. I'm sorry I wasn't truthful before. It wasn't right to lie to you."

"That's all right. After all, you don't know who to trust anymore."

"But I shouldn't have lied. Anyhow, where are you staying in New York? Do you have any plans now?"

"No." John glanced away. "Maria and I were supposed to live in a beautiful house here. But I don't think I really desire it much now."

"Oh. It's a shame."

"Yes. It is. What are you going to do?"

"Nothing, yet. I have no place to stay now. I can't ever go back to my mother—my—old life. It would be almost too dreadful."

"You were in first class?"

"How could you tell?"

"That coat. I saw one like it shopping with Maria. Quite expensive."

Rose suddenly realized her pocket sagged down on her one side. She felt the extra weight, and placed her hand inside. What she felt was nothing short of a miracle. She could probably pawn it—or something—to get money. "I have a necklace that is very gaudy."

"May I see it?"

"I don't know where it is. I think I left in my—oh—somewhere. I don't know."

"I see."

"I shall live on the streets or in a hotel until I can find a job or something like that. I can't imagine myself working. I've never had to do it before. I always had servants. I wish I had treated them better now. Hindsight is always 20/20."

"It is."

"What will you do with your house?" Rose asked as she leaned against the railing.

"Sell it. Would you like to stay there until you get on your feet? There are extra rooms."

"I hardly know you! How can you expect me to say yes to such an atrocious offer?"

"You're desperate, and I couldn't see you living on the streets of New York."

"Well, I..." Rose stumbled over her words. John was right, and it would be convenient. She needed a place to stay for a while. "I guess I could stay for around a week or so. But I don't want impose."

"I will meet you when we dock," John stated. "I will make sure you get there all right."

"Thank you so much."

"My pleasure."

XXXXX

Rose attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers. She wanted to look semi-decent as she left the Carpathia. She had no belongings of her own, and wouldn't need to carry much. Perhaps she would offer to help someone. Hopefully, tips would be involved.

"Miss Dawson?" a woman asked, coming into the room. "There is a Mr. Wilkes here to see you."

"I'll be right out," Rose replied. She continued to attempt to fix her hair. She wanted to feel pretty again, like she did with Jack.

"May I come in?" John asked, when didn't come out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, John. I was just thinking. I guess I've been doing that a lot lately."

"So have we all."

"I guess you're right. It's hard to concentrate, and my head still pounds. I feel as though I'll never get warm."

"That water was quite cold."

"Yes."

They remained in silence for a moment, remembering the night their lives changed forever. Rose looked beautiful, even though she was pale and her eyes were red and drooping from exhaustion.

"Are you all right, Rose?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, fine."

"Shall we leave? We're docking now."

"Yes."

XXXXX

As they made their way off the ship, Rose realized this was what she should have been doing with Jack. They would have arrived, jumped off the deck, and celebrated their way into eternity. But not now. No, it wouldn't be like that.

"Mother!" Rose gasped silently as she saw her mother on the deck below her. There was Cal and Molly Brown, as well. They were searching diligently, and Rose knew she was the object of their search.

"John, could we please hurry out of this—open—space? I would rather be in more with the crowd. Maybe I'll recognize someone I met."

After reaching the cool air of the city, John hailed a cab. Rose could still see Cal and her mother. She watched as her mother wiped her eyes, and then glanced in their direction. Her eyes widened, and she began to yell. "Rose! Rose!"

"Get me out of here," Rose whispered to John, as they hurriedly scrambled into the cab.

"Why the rush?"

"Anxiety."

Her mother continued to yell as Cal pulled her into their cab. Rose breathed a sigh of relief as her cab pulled away from the docks. So many reporters tried get the passengers' stories. She had refused to comment to any of them.

XXXXX

The house was large, and was three stories tall. "You were going to live in this big old place with your little wife?" Rose asked.

"We wanted many children," John replied quickly.

_Much too quickly_, Rose thought.

The noise in the street began to overwhelm her. Honking horns and shouting from newsies. Clattering of cans in the road and the wind blowing through trees were loud to her.

"I think I shall lie down when we get inside, John," Rose said. "I feel ill."

XXXXX

The nausea hit Rose like a punch in the face. She awoke in the morning and couldn't keep anything down. John was worried for her, and had a doctor come to the house. Rose felt better by the afternoon when the doctor came, and was ready for the examination. She was sweating a little and had a mild temperature, but everything else was perfect.

"Just a chill," Dr. Ferguson said. "She'll be fine in a few days."

But the next morning, the pattern was the same, and for a week after that. Sick in the morning, well in the afternoon. Dr. Ferguson was sent for again.

"Well, Rose," the doctor began, "do you want children?"

"I—oh—what?"

"You are pregnant. Congratulations."

"But how?"

"_Put your hands on me, Jack."_

"Oh, no." Rose placed her head on the backboard and wanted to cry. It was Jack. His child was inside of her at this very moment. She could feel him.

"Is something wrong, Rose?" John asked once the doctor had left.

"John," Rose began, with tears in her eyes, "I am unwed, and pregnant!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

John had been startled, of course. He thought Rose had been married to the love of her life, who had died in her arms. Now, he found out different.

Rose was worried about him. He refused to speak with her, for she was going to have a child out of wedlock, and John thought it was improper. She was terrified of what was about to take place in her life, and really wished John would help her. She didn't need him to be stubborn right now. She walked down the stairs in a robe that used to belong to John's wife, Maria. It suited Rose perfectly, perfect enough to get John's attention as she came into the kitchen. "John, we really have to talk. Don't be mad at me. I was planning on marrying Jack as soon as the Titanic docked. I promise you, we were in love."

"It doesn't matter. You weren't married. That child has no father."

"Yes, it does, and his name is Jack!"

"Do you know what people will say? They will think I am the father because you are living here. People will ridicule me. You can't stay here anymore."

"What?" Rose cried. "I can't leave now! Do you expect me to give birth on the street?"

"Do what you must. But you must not remain in my house!"

"John, please. I will tell people it's not your child. I know I said I would leave within a week, but I have been ill. Do you understand? Please, help me! I can't work in this condition. Please!" She was begging now, and had fallen to her knees out of weakness.

John just looked at her with anger and sipped his coffee. He poured some vodka in it and drank some more. He looked back at Rose. She was extremely pale, and her lips were turning blue. He did care for this poor girl. She had lost the man she loved and the father of her child. She had no place to go, and it was cold in the city. She knew not how to work for money to care for herself.

"Please, John."

"You must promise to stay in the house, and rarely go outside. Do you understand me?"

"Anything. I just want to have Jack's child. He's gone now, and I love him. I still do."

"Go upstairs. Sleep. You look awful."

Rose did as she was told. She wanted sleep, for she had been up all week trying to find out what she could possibly do. She was the epitome of confusion. John noticed this and took pity on her. Besides, he had feelings for her. He didn't know why. She was beautiful and kind, and depended on him for everything. He knew he had an advantage...

XXXXX

"I can't eat that!" Rose told John. "I'll never keep it down. This morning is worse the any other."

"You have to eat something. You haven't eaten in days. What about the baby? It needs nutrition. Please eat something."

"I'll just have some tea if it's all right with you. I can't eat, John. I'm sorry."

The past month have been a nightmare. This pregnancy looked at though it wouldn't last long. But Rose was determined to give birth to Jack's child. It would be a memory of him, forever. John's feelings had grown more and more for Rose. More so than his feelings for Maria. He was frightened of what had come over him. He shouldn't be doing this. Not when he should be preserving his thoughts of his deceased wife. But he couldn't control himself. He wanted Rose to be his forever.

"Are you all right, John? You just are staring into space. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm just worrying about you too much. I think we should call the doctor back."

"Oh, nonsense! I will be perfectly fine. My mother lay in bed with me for six months before I was born and look how I turned out!"

"Where is your mother, Rose?"

"My mother?" Rose stopped drinking the tea and looked up at John. She realized she had been lying to him these entire two months. Nothing she had told him about her previous life was true. "My mother's died." In a way, she was dead for Rose. She didn't exist. Even though her mother was extant didn't mean she had to exist.

"Oh, so sorry."

"Don't be."

The pain in her stomach grew stronger, and she placed the tea on the table. "I think I'll go back to bed, John. I still feel a little ill."

"All right, Rose. I'll see you at dinner. You must eat sometime today. For the baby."

Rose placed her hand on her stomach and massaged the pain. "For the baby," she repeated.

Eating had become a real pain. Rose couldn't keep anything down except for some drinks and dry toast. But that wasn't going to help the baby. It was hungry, while Rose was not. She hadn't even begun to show yet. As a matter of fact, she was losing weight.

XXXXX

John entered the bedroom and looked at his beautiful Rose. She was sitting up and reading a novel.

"Oh, hello, John. I'm not hungry."

"Yes, I know. You always say that. Rose, I am very worried about you. Four months into pregnancy. You should be showing now."

"Do you think I'm a fool! I know that! John, I am so worried about my baby, and I have no idea what labor is going to be like. Or even if I will ever experience labor. Tell me my child will live, John. Please tell me!"

Rose had begun to weep, and John rushed over to her side to comfort her. He wanted any excuse to hug this woman whom he had grown strong feelings for. He wanted to marry her, but knew she wasn't ready. Not after Jack...

"I want this baby," Rose's muffled voice said into his chest. "I love Jack, and I want his child. Lie to me if you must, but tell me my baby will live!"

"I'll tell you anything," John replied, running his fingers through Rose's silky hair. "Anything you want, I'll do."

Rose felt nauseous and leaned back against the headboard of the large bed. "I feel awful. It was bad enough losing Jack, but his child—"

She placed her hand on her stomach and tried to will the baby to live. Rose wanted to be a mother. She wanted Jack to be the father of her children, and she wanted this to be it. It was her only chance to give Jack a legacy of his own.

"It hurts. It hurts so much, John. Please, call the doctor. I want all the help I can get so that this baby will live."

XXXXX

Rose donned her black bonnet and simple black dress. It was Jacqueline Ruth Dawson's funeral, and Rose wanted her daughter to see her mother for the one last time.

"Are you ready, Rose?" John asked, placing a hand on Rose's shoulder. He could see how weak she was, and how frail she had become.

"I'll never be ready for the funeral of my own daughter," Rose replied sadly. She looked in the mirror one last time before they headed toward the cemetery.

Five months. It had been an entire five months since she had met and lost Jack. She had survived, but not the way Jack had probably wanted her to. "I lost his child," Rose thought to herself in the car. "How will he ever forgive me?"

She placed a lily on Jacqueline's grave, a tiny diadem for the angel she loved. "I love you," Rose whispered to the coffin as it was lowered. "Tell your father in heaven that I love and miss him, too."

These words stung John, who had thought perhaps Jack was forgotten. But no. Jacqueline's birth and death after only five months had only made Rose love and miss Jack himself more.

They drove home. The rain pounded on the earth, leaving an echoing sound on the inside of the black car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The world lay under a deep blanket of colorful leaves. It was all dead, as the crisp autumn air replaced that of the fresh summer. Rose hated it. Her child had only been buried three days ago, and already the world was turning sour.

Two people. She had lost two people who were dear to her heart, as weak as it was now. The doctor said that her experience in Titanic might have hurt the fetus and Rose's body, causing Jacqueline's prematurity and untimely death.

She was curled up, knees into her chest, in the corner of her room. The curtain were drawn. Rose refused to let any sunlight shine into her bleak world. She rocked back and forth, back and forth. _"Come Josephine in my flying machine."_ She remembered when Jack had sung that to her. _"Up, she goes, up, she goes,"_ she sang to herself, completing the phrase. The song was forever there, as was Jack's memory.

John hurried into the room. He hadn't seen her all morning, and had gotten worried. There she was, in the fetal position in the corner, singing that song. "Rose, please, come eat something."

"There's no baby now, John. No reason to eat. No reason to care."

"Get up!"

Rose looked up at him as he pulled back the curtains. She shielded her eyes from the sudden burst of light, and put her head in her knees. "It's much too bright, John."

"The world goes on, with or without you," John reminded her as she began to cry. "But I would prefer it if you were there as the world turns."

"Why?"

"I—never you mind. Just get up. At least get dressed. That robe is beginning to decay on you!"

"I hadn't noticed." Rose began to stand up, but felt dizzy as she did. "Perhaps I'll feel better after a bath. That sounds all right."

"Yes, take a warm bath and relax." John headed her towards the washroom. "It will make you feel much better. I promise."

"All right."

John watched as Rose closed the door. How he wished she would love him the way she loved Jack! His feeling had turned into unrequited love for this girl—this woman—whom he had met on the Titanic. But she was slowly slipping away from the firm grasp of reality she had once had. She wasn't Rose anymore. She was the person who had fallen in love on the Titanic, the lover of the man who had died in her arms, the might-have-been-mother of his child. Not Rose.

John realized that Rose had forgotten a towel to take with her. He wanted to be in there anyway, to see Rose fully. He loved her. Removing a towel from the rack, he knocked on the door. He could hear water splashing in the bathtub.

"Yes?" came a voice.

"You forgot your towel," John answered. "I have one here for you."

Rose put her robe on, and walked outside. John was standing by the door, waiting to see her. All she had on was that decaying robe, but John wanted more. So much more.

"Thank you." Rose grabbed the towel and hurried back inside the washroom. John sighed as she shut the door.

XXXXX

"That dress is quite lovely on you, Rose." John had her spin around in the mirror. The fall colors that year were perfect on her, and John thought that she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

"I don't know," Rose replied. "I just got tired of wearing black. Jack wouldn't like it. He liked it when I wore pastels."

"Rose, Jack isn't—" He stopped himself before he said something he could possibly regret. This was like a chess game, and if he wanted to have Rose, he'd have to move the right pieces.

"I know Jack isn't here." Rose turned to face John. She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his freshly shaven face. "At least, he's not here in body. But he is here in spirit, and that is what counts."

"If you say so."

"I don't expect you to understand. You grieved for Maria in your own way. It seems you have recovered from that experience quite well. You never even mention her anymore."

"It took the past five-and-a-half months to not be able to cry when I think about her," John replied. "And, besides that, I'm in love—never mind."

"No. It's not never mind." Rose smiled and tugged at his arm playfully. "You're in love again! I can see it! Oh, tell me, please!"

"No, no, no," John replied, through her nagging. "It's not important."

"All right. Let's play twenty questions." Rose sat on the edge of the bed, anxious to hear what her friend was thinking. "My first question is...hmm...is she at all pretty? Or is that too shallow of me?"

"No, no. Not shallow at all. Yes, she's very pretty. You can't help but notice how pretty she is."

"Does she live nearby?"

"Quite near."

"On the street?"

"Yes."

"Is she young? As in barely-old-enough-to-be-married young?"

"Hmm...not quite so much."

"Is she my age or around there?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Would I know her?"

"Very well."

"I'm stumped." Rose ended the questions. "The only person my age around here is Lucy Maudy, and you hate her with a passion that cannot be expressed in words. Tell me, John!"

"You'll find out eventually."

"You're cruel."

John left the room with a smirk on his face, but with a sadness in his heart. It would have been the perfect chance to tell her. If only Rose hadn't brought up the Jack situation...

XXXXX

Rose passed John's room on her way to bed that night. She peeked through a crack in the door opening, just to make sure he was all right.

The light was on in his room, and John sat at a desk, staring into the eyes of a picture. Rose strained her eyes in the dim light to see what the picture was. She gasped slightly as she saw a picture of herself, and John was gazing at it lovingly.

She put her hand to her heart. _He's in love with—with me!_ she thought, as she struggled to catch her breath. She did not love John that way. Of course, he was kind and caring and gentle. But when compared to Jack...

Rose ran from his doorway, back to her room, in a cascade of tears. "This can't be happening," she told herself. "No, I'm not ready yet. I still want to love Jack. I don't believe this. No, I won't accept it."

She turned the lamp off and crawled into bed. She refused to think of anything but Jack.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Rose walked in the door, home from another day of looking for a job. She had been feeling stronger the past few weeks, and had decided that it was time to begin doing her share to pay the bills. She hadn't found a job yet, but she was confident that she would find some sort of work soon.

She was surprised to see John sitting on the couch, waiting for her. His expression was one of both confusion and anger. As she approached him, wondering what was wrong, he held up a folded newspaper.

"Rose," he began. "I was reading the paper this morning, and I came across a most interesting article. Perhaps you'd like to read it."

Bewildered, Rose took the newspaper, her eyes widening with dread when she saw the article he was referring to. There, in the society column, was a short piece about the much-belated memorial service for Rose DeWitt Bukater—complete with her picture.

She wasn't sure what to say. Should she deny that the picture was of her, explaining that it was a remarkable resemblance, or should she tell him the truth, and try to explain why she had done what she had done?

John didn't give her a chance to speak. "Rose DeWitt Bukater, the drowned society girl," he sneered. "I should have known that something wasn't right when you first introduced yourself as Jane, and then decided that your name was Rose Dawson. How many other names do you have, I wonder?"

"My—my name is Rose Dawson," Rose told him, wondering how she could explain. "I took Jack's name when the Carpathia docked—"

"Obviously," he responded. "But the question is, why did the little rich girl run away from home? Was your fiancé not man enough for you?"

"What?" Rose didn't understand what he was saying.

"Evidently, you slept with your steerage lover—and bore his child, even if she was stillborn. Well-bred young women don't do such things without a reason." He grabbed her arms. "Were you looking for more excitement than your high society fiancé could give you?"

Rose's eyes widened with comprehension. "How dare you?" she spat. "I loved Jack. He was not just some fling in an attempt to find excitement. I left Cal because—"

"Because he wasn't exciting enough for you? Is that it? Well, he thinks you're dead, and your steerage lover is dead. You've been living under my roof all these months, eating my food, and contributing nothing. It's about time you paid up—and giving me a taste of what you gave Hockley and Dawson is a good way to start."

"No!" Rose jerked her arms away, her shock written all over her face. John had been so kind to her, taking her in, making sure that she had food even when she didn't want it—and even falling in love with her. And that, she realized in a flash, was the problem. He felt betrayed, led on. He could have accepted that what had happened with Jack had been a sign of her love for him, but learning about Cal had been too much. No decent woman would carry on with one man while engaged to another, in his opinion—and he had no intention of letting her explain. As far as he was concerned, she was a woman of easy virtue, one who had tricked him into loving her—even though she had never asked him to love her.

Before she could get away, John grabbed her and began to push her down on the couch, his fingers working at the buttons on her dress even as she struggled.

"Let go of me!" Rose demanded. "I don't owe you this!"

"Oh, yes, you do. I've waited far too long for this."

"No! Let go of me! My God, you're as bad as Cal—assuming that I'm a whore because I gave myself to the man I loved."

"Shut up!" he told her, putting a hand over her mouth to stop her protests. His other hand began to hitch up her skirt.

Realizing that her struggles were futile, Rose suddenly went still, not objecting as he began to tug at her bloomers. Then, when his attention was fully on the task of undressing her, Rose raised a fist and punched him in the nose with all her strength.

Shocked, he let go of her. Rose shoved him away, getting to her feet and running to the door. Before John recovered from his surprise, she was out the door, heading for the street.

XXXXX

Three weeks later, Rose was still living on the street. She had no money, no way to find a place to live. She hadn't dared to go back to John's house after she left, so she didn't have the money that Cal had stuffed in his coat pockets, or the Heart of the Ocean. John could have her few belongings, she supposed—she owed him that much for the food, shelter, and care. But she resented having to leave the diamond behind. It was her only connection to Jack, now that Jacqueline Ruth was dead.

She was often hungry, since few people would consider giving a homeless woman a job, and she refused to do anything other than begging to get by—no stealing, no prostitution. Both would have been easy enough, especially the prostitution, but she had no intention of compromising her morals in such a way. She had run away from one man who considered her easy, and she certainly wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of proving him right. Until she said otherwise, that part of her belonged only to Jack, and she had no intention of finding another man any time soon.

At least she wasn't completely alone. A homeless prostitute named Maddie had taken her under her wing, protecting her against the more dangerous elements of street life. Rose was grateful for her help. Without her, she might not have survived the past few weeks on the streets. Growing up as a member of high society had certainly not prepared her for living on the streets of New York City.

They didn't always see eye to eye. Maddie openly encouraged Rose to try prostitution, offering to introduce her to some men that she knew who would be glad to buy Rose's favors. She didn't understand why Rose was willing to sit and beg, day after day, for change, when she might make as much as ten dollars in a night if she went with the right men.

Rose didn't try to explain. Maddie was accustomed to the life of a prostitute—and to its humiliations and dangers. She had been a prostitute since the age of thirteen, and was now seventeen—Rose's age. But there was a world-weary bearing about her, brought on by too many years on the street, too many years of struggling to make ends meet and suffering the abuse of society—often at the hands of the very men who were so eager to buy her services at night. To be sure, she made a lot of money sometimes—but those times were often few and far between, and things would only get worse as she grew older and possibly less healthy. Much as she was grateful to her, Rose had no intention of becoming like Maddie. She had too much pride.

Now, Rose sat on a bench before a small market, holding out a can to passers-by, hoping that someone would take pity on her and drop in a few coins. Most people ignored her, or looked at her disdainfully. A few made insulting remarks as they walked past.

Rose ignored them, having grown used to such treatment over the past few weeks. It still hurt, but she was slowly growing inured to it. And there were always those who did take pity on her, however few they might be, dropping in a few pennies, or a nickel or dime. On occasion, someone would drop in a quarter, and once someone had given her a half-dollar. Rose had eaten well that night, at least as well as she could expect on the streets.

She was always on the lookout for the police, who would drive her away from wherever she had chosen to stop, shouting at her for pandering, and sometimes give chase. She hadn't been arrested yet, but one day her luck might give out. Of course, in jail she would have a roof over her head and food to eat, but she wasn't that desperate yet.

Rose looked up as a young man walked by and dropped a dime into her can. "Thank you," she murmured, taking the dime and putting it in her pocket. It was the first money she had received in two days.

Rose steeled herself as her stomach lurched with hunger. She hadn't eaten in two days, but there was still time today. Someone might give her a few more pennies, or another dime. She could get some bread, and maybe a piece of fruit, if she could get a little more money.

The young man who had given her the dime was still watching her, surprised at her manners and her dignified bearing. Most people, by the time they were reduced to begging on the street, had lost all vestiges of pride, and many were so bitter that they didn't bother to thank the people who gave them money or food. This young woman, while obviously down on her luck, still had her pride and the ability to be grateful. Intrigued, he turned back to her.

"What's your name, miss?" he asked, dropping a nickel into her can.

Rose looked at him suspiciously, but decided that there was no harm in telling him her name. Taking the nickel gratefully, she responded, "Rose."

He nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Rose. I'm Thomas Calvert."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Five dollars," the man said to Maddie. "And that is my final offer."

Rose couldn't believe she was hearing this. Maddie was selling herself again. At first, it seemed like the man had been eyeing poor Rose, but his affections turned toward the more experienced Maddie.

"All right," Maddie told the man. "Five. And you better pay it in full!"

_I will never do that_, Rose thought. _Never will I stoop so low—_

Clink!

Rose looked to see the same handsome man as yesterday drop a quarter in her cup. "Have I helped?"

"Well, it's more money than I had yesterday," Rose replied. "Tell me, do you always give beggars money?"

"Well, yes," the man stated. "I just want to help in any way that I can."

"I don't choose to be here. If I could, I would go home right now. But it's too dangerous for me. This is my only place of refuge. And I am cold and tired."

"I know of a shelter," the man told her caringly. "Not many of the poor women like to go there, but it provides a place to live and they have food and warmth."

"I don't even know who you are. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I care about people and what happens to them," the man replied. "Like your friend over there. I tried to help her by taking her to the shelter. Would you like to end up like that?"

"No."

"And as for who I am..." The man took his hat off and shook Rose's hand. "I am Thomas Calvert."

"I haven't eaten in a week," Rose told Maddie. "And Thomas stops by every day with something. But I feel so badly for you that I give it all to you. Please don't give yourself up for money anymore. It disgusts me."

"There's nothing I can do about that, dear." Maddie placed newspapers in a large tin and lit a fire.

The fall days were becoming colder, and Rose huddled under Cal's coat, the necklace once again safe inside.

"You can do lots—" Rose stopped to cough, and tried to catch her breath. "Maddie, dear, I believe I'm sick. I can't take any more sickness."

"We've all been sick, Rose. Sometimes we almost die. Sometimes we do die. But it's life, and everyone dies."

"Some much too young for their time, "Rose argued.

"Well, yes."

XXXXX

"And there's my Rose." Thomas came up to her and gave her the daily quarter. "How are we today?"

"Rose is sick," Maddie scoffed. "As if people don't get sick."

Rose stood from her seat. She whispered to Thomas, "I haven't eaten in days. I gave all the money to Maddie so she doesn't have to...um...work, if you know what I mean. I feel as though I were going to implode."

"Rose, are you going to faint?" Thomas asked. He looked at her pale face and shaking body.

"I—I'm so hungry—" Rose fell forward.

Thomas caught her just in time, and Maddie rushed to her aid. "Oh, if I'd have known, I'd have taken her to the shelter myself!" Maddie criticized her previous actions.

"I'm taking her there, now." Thomas picked up the poor girl. "She needs all the help she can get."

"Tell her I'm sorry if she—when she—wakes up," Maddie ordered him with tears in her eyes. "She is my only friend out here. Please take care of her."

XXXXX

"Jack," Rose whispered, as Thomas sat by her side. "Jack, is that you?"

"It's Thomas," Thomas told her, wondering who Jack could possibly be. "You're going to be fine, Rose."

"Jack," she whispered again, as she fell back asleep.

Miss Campen, the nurse attending to Rose, walked into the room and toward the pair. "She is suffering from a severe case of malnutrition. It looks as though she hasn't eaten regularly in about six months. Her body is slowly deteriorating."

"Is there anything to be done?" Thomas asked hopelessly.

"Keep her here and make her eat," Miss Campen relied, taking her chart from the night stand. "It's not every corner you find a homeless shelter. You were lucky she was close."

"Yes, I was lucky," Thomas said, looking at Rose sleeping peacefully.

"You must eat, Rose." Thomas handed her a plate of food as she sat up.

"Why are you here?"

"Please, eat."

"Answer me, Thomas," Rose said firmly. "Why are you still here?"

"I—I was poor, once," Thomas replied. "Now, eat what's on the plate."

"Wait—you were poor?" Rose exclaimed. "And now you have enough money to pay the poor? I can't believe it! You?"

"Yes. Don't get yourself so excited. You really need to rest...and eat. Please do so."

"All right." Rose ate hungrily. "But I won't believe that you were once a street rat yourself."

"You don't have to," Thomas replied. "Just sit there and let me watch you."

Rose looked at him quizzically, and continued to eat. She shook that comment out of her head, and within minutes, those words meant nothing to her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Thomas walked past the slums where he had found Rose. He had to go to work every day through them, and every day remembered the poverty he had once lived in. His past was tortured, as well as Rose's. He knew something had happened to her, although exactly what, he was uncertain. He just wanted her to be happy again, and get back on her feet.

"She could be something," he told himself as he silently passed the back of Maddie. He dared not talk to her, for if she knew anything she would convince Rose to come back to the street. Thomas couldn't bear seeing Rose having to sell herself to live. It was too grotesque.

The shelter stood on the corner of the street where Thomas worked. He promised himself he would visit Rose every time he passed by. Her life could change, and that was how he wanted it to be.

"There's Mr. Calvert, now," the nurse told Rose as she wrote on her clipboard. "I'll leave you two alone. I see a future for you."

"Oh, dear, no." Rose laughed it off. "No, he's only helping me."

"Are you blind?" Miss Campen asked as she left the bedside.

"What was she saying?" Thomas asked Rose as he sat next to her.

"Nothing of importance, really," Rose replied. "Just that I'm getting a little better day by day. But once I'm better, what will I do?"

"Get a job?"

"I don't know how to do anything," Rose told him. "Except sew, and I don't want to work in a sewing factory making clothes. I was wealthy once. Now look at me, wandering aimlessly in a world where you should know where you're going."

"What happened to you, Rose?"

Rose gulped and adjusted herself. In her hand, she held the diamond. She gripped it so Thomas wouldn't see. "I hated my life. So I ran."

"That's how it's usually like," Thomas said. "But you're just fortunate enough that people like you and so you make friends easily. I mean, I've known Maddie for some time, and I hate her. You're lucky I like you."

"Or else I'd be dead now. I promised someone very special to me that I would live, through thick and thin. I think I've done well, so far."

"Get a job. Sewing or not. You need the money to live. I won't see you turn into a scoundrel like Maddie."

"I said a long time ago I wouldn't. I will survive without having to--well--never mind. I'm sure you used to see it all the time. So, anyway, why me?"

"Hmm?"

"Why, of all the dirty homeless on the streets, did you pick me to try and save?"

"Because you seem the sort of person who would just love to make something out of her life. That's why."

"Are you everyone's savior?" Rose asked with a smile. "Or just mine?"

"I've never gone this far with anyone I've helped," Thomas answered, grinning back. "Usually, I just give people a quarter or so, not drag them to the shelter because they're dying."

"That makes me feel special," Rose joked. "Of course, I do have one belonging I could sell. I could live from it for years."

"What is it?"

"You'll see, if I decide to sell it. Of course, if a certain person finds out, I'll be in a lot of trouble. And then I'll have to go home. I've gotten myself into quite a predicament."

"I see. That's never good. I can tell you."

"I can tell myself," Rose said. "So, what made you run away and live on your own--poorly, that is?"

"Felt wedged between a rock and a hard place," Thomas replied. "So I left to get free. Otherwise, I would have been pounded into an uncaring nothing of a human."

"Sounds familiar to a person I know," Rose told him. "It sound like myself." She felt the imprint of the diamond in her skin as she held it tighter. "I sometimes want to just break down and cry over all my troubles. But then where would I be? Just a poor woman who cries an awful lot."

"You must be strong." _You must be strong, Rose._ Jack's words echoed in Rose's mind, as Thomas was saying the exact phrase.

"Rose, are you all right? You're just staring into space there."

"I'm fine. Just thinking. Ever hear of the Titanic?"

"Who hasn't?" Thomas asked, and then noticing Rose blink a tear away, he added, "What's wrong, Rose?"

"I was on Titanic, Thomas," Rose said. "It was awful. That's why I'm here, with no place to go. My family is here somewhere, and I don't ever want to find them. But I'm alone because of that damn ship!"

Thomas hugged Rose as she burst into tears. They ran down her cheeks in waterfalls. She hadn't cried so hard in weeks.

"I can only imagine what being on that ship must have been like." Thomas held her close, while Rose squeezed her necklace. "I heard about it from newspapers, but I think a personal experience must be more tragic than the papers make it seem."

"And I lost everyone dear to me. I miss him--them," she corrected, so as not to give anything about her past away. She wanted no one to know about Jack.

"It's all right. Everything will be all right."

Rose continued to cry on his shoulder. She hated this. She hated everything. If only she could go back to that night months ago. If only she were still with Jack. If she would have known what life would be like now, she would have died on that night six months ago.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"_It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it."_ Rose dreamed of that fateful night when she had promised Jack she would leave with him. The consequences meant nothing to her; only Jack meant something. And now it was nothing but a distant memory.

"I do believe that Thomas fellow has taken a fancy to you." The nurse checked Rose's pulse as Rose dozed.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, it does. There's no reason he shouldn't. You're beautiful, and you clean up nicely. You may hardly recognize yourself as a healthy woman."

"Healthy?" Rose asked, and laughed. "I've never been healthy. I've always been unwell for the past seven months. I was starting to get used to it."

"Well, you'll feel much better when you leave." Miss Campen put the stethoscope away and sat on a chair. "Speaking of which, where will you be staying? Here?"

"In the shelter?" Rose laughed again. "I don't think so. I'd rather be on my own than stay here. But thank you for helping me, anyway."

"Perhaps Mr. Calvert will help you somewhat." Miss Campen smiled and winked at Rose. "You know, he used to come here all the time. He was constantly ill, and made a weekly excursion to the shelter. I hope you will, too. Not many of you talk to us nurses."

"They should," Rose told her. "Sometimes it helps to talk, although I don't want to admit it. There are certain things I'd rather not talk about."

"So about Mr. Calvert and you—"

"Some things like that. I feel uncomfortable pouring out my soul on you poor creatures. Sometimes it just happens, but I usually keep to myself. Now, once in a while, someone comes along, and you feel as though they can see your soul, and they understand you, and you can't help but pour your heart out."

"Like you do with Thomas."

"He is not my soulmate."

"Tell him that." Miss Campen motioned toward the door, where Thomas had appeared with a bag over his shoulder.

"Hello, Rose," he said as he sat next to the nurse.

"I'll be leaving." Miss Campen smiled at Rose. "There are other patients that need tending to. Be good, both of you."

"Nurses." Rose blushed as Thomas looked into her eyes. She felt odd at this, and sat up straighter. "What's in the bag, Thomas?"

"Well, I took the liberty of buying you some clothes," he replied, putting the bag on the bed for Rose to investigate. "You will be leaving soon, and you'll need something to wear."

"But these are much too lovely to wear on the street." Rose held up a pink dress, the latest in fashion.

"You won't be going back to those slums, will you?" Thomas practically begged. "Please tell me you won't. You don't deserve a life like that. You deserve far more."

"Thomas..."

"No, I have to say this, Rose." Thomas placed strong fingers on her soft lips. She looked deep into his green eyes and placed a hand on his.

"Please, don't, Thomas...you don't know what has happened to me to make me such a sour person."

"And do you want to be sour all your life, Rose?" Thomas got closer and sat on the bed beside her. "Or do you want to be happy again? Titanic was a dent in your life. I admit that. But you are alive, and you can't spend the rest of your life sulking."

"There are so many things you don't know—"

"I don't want to know. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. Just tell me one thing...will you be with me?"

"What?"

"As in marriage?"

The silence was terrorizing. Rose's heart was beating faster and faster. She liked Thomas, indeed. He was a kind and caring friend. And a handsome one at that. But love?

"Oh, Thomas..."

"Say no more." Thomas grabbed his coat from the chair. "I know what you'll say. I was expecting it. Just so you know, I was prepared. I won't visit anymore. The pain would be too much."

He walked toward the door, and turned around to face Rose one more time. She had thrown herself into her pillows and was sobbing. He wanted to hold her, and tell her everything would be all right. But nothing would be ever be all right. He decided right there that something dreadful must have happened on that ship to make her so dreadfully sorrowful. And Thomas vowed to put it to an end.

"There, there, dear," Miss Campen soothed Rose. "I'm sure he'll come around again. If you don't love him, what were you expected to do?"

"I don't know if I love him," Rose confided, wiping her nose with a fresh tissue. "I'm not sure if I only like him, or if I'm forbidding myself to love him. It doesn't make sense."

"_That's why I trust it."_

That decided it. "If it doesn't make sense, it must be right," Rose told her. "All my life, I was thinking and thinking, and nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. I'm going to stop thinking. I'll let myself be happy. Thomas was right."

"Rose?"

"I love him, Miss Campen," Rose's eyes were ablaze with joy. "I thought I couldn't. I mean, I was sad when he wasn't there. I'm happy when he comes to visit. Is that love, or isn't it?"

"I think you know."

"Oh, but there's a problem," Rose stated. "He won't be here anymore for me to say—oh, Lord." Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the wall.

"I can fix that. His work is right down the street from the shelter. I'm sure I can contact him. He'll be happy, I'm sure."

"Is that a wedding ring?" Rose asked, looking at the nurse's hand. "Then why aren't you a Mrs.?"

"My husband was killed a few years back. His name was George Campen. Wonderful man he was. When he died, I just became a miss again."

"And another thing," Rose began. "How did you know all those things about Thomas?"

"He's my brother."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Rose awoke in the shelter's hard bed with a feeling of dread. Unless Miss Campen could get through to Thomas, he would not visit her today. And even if she did talk to him, he still might not come. What would she say to him if he did?

Light streamed in through the windows. Through the rain of the past week, nobody had ever thought the sun would shine again. The earth was wet all over, and the pending winter season became more apparent than ever.

November was beautiful, though, Rose had to admit. The crisp autumn leaves lay on the ground now, making the green grass a lovely ocean of reds, yellows, browns, and oranges. The world was happy. Rose was not.

She had turned down Thomas' proposal, and then realized she did love him. After seven months, she should have started healing, but she wouldn't let herself. Now, all she wanted was joy, and Thomas could provide that. He made her happy.

Miss Campen entered the room and rushed to Rose's side. "I sent someone for Thomas. However, I felt like having some fun with this."

"What did you do, Miss Campen?" Rose asked inquisitively, winking at the nurse. She knew that she was out to prove that Thomas was extremely in love with Rose.

"I told him—well—that you were on the verge of death, and—"

"You what?" Rose cried with a laugh on the side, adjusting her blankets. "Should I act like I'm almost dead? Maybe we can frighten him a bit. What goes through your mind when you think of these things?"

"You said you wanted to speak with him urgently, and if you wanted him to come visit again we had to up the stakes a bit. I guess it sounded better in thought than in action."

"I guess so," Rose replied as she looked out the window to see Thomas run into the main level of the shelter. "I expect him any minute."

Rose pulled the curtain back, letting the sunlight bathe her auburn hair, casting golden highlights across her curls. She looked as beautiful as she had that evening on Titanic...

"Lora!" Thomas entered the room, calling his sister's name. He looked at her, then a quite healthy Rose, then his sister again, then Rose. He turned back to Miss Campen and said, "I demand to know what the hell is the meaning of this? She looked perfectly fine to me!"

"Thomas, I am fine." Rose smiled, trying to calm him. "She got overly excited when I asked for you...I did want to see you as soon as humanly possible, but this was just—"

"I'll just be leaving now." Miss Campen interrupted Rose's apology for Thomas' hurriedness. "I have to…um…sort numerous papers in the office—upstairs. Bye, now."

Thomas watched her leave, holding further conversation with her in abeyance. He sat on the bed with Rose and looked at how beautiful she was. "What did you want to see me about?"

"You sound hopeful."

"I am. I have every right to be."

"Yes, you should. I have reconsidered. Thomas, I wasn't letting myself be happy. And even now, it seems so soon after Jack—my—experience on Titanic, for me to be able to love you. But I know I do, and I want to be your wife."

She searched his eyes for any emotion whatsoever, and just saw black for a moment. But then he looked at her so lovingly she thought she would cry again. Rose smiled.

"I love you, Rose," Thomas stated, allaying any fear of rejection.

"Thomas, I have always felt empty inside during the past seven months. There was nothing there. I'll have to get used to it, you know, that feeling of being loved again."

Thomas leaned forward, placing a hand in her curls and moving it down to her chin. He kissed her sweetly, and Rose gave in. She let herself love again, and be loved. Since April, she had thought there was nothing that could keep her happy and safe again. Thomas' benevolence was what she had loved at first, then he himself as a lover.

Thomas leaned back and look deeply at Rose, as if trying to delve into her thoughts. "Have I helped?" he asked, muttering the usual phrase he did when he had helped her in the slums.

"You have no idea just how much." Rose kissed him again.

XXXXX

"It's high time that boy got married," Miss Campen told Rose as they packed her things, "However, I do not believe that lovers such as yourself should be living together until you are married. It is a sin under God."

"But we love each other, Lora." Rosa had opted to use the less formal name of her soon-to-be sister-in-law. "That's all that matters."

Lora eyed her suspiciously, with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

"If it will make you feel better, I promise not to do anything dishonest."

"Define dishonest."

"Nothing I would lie about to save myself, anyway," Rose told her. Lora still stared. "We won't do anything. I know exactly what you are thinking, and we won't."

"All right, as long as you've given me your word. I believe you. Actually, I'm happy Thomas found you. You are so much alike in thought and manner. I'll be proud to have you as my sister."

Lora reached for Rose's coat, and feeling something heavy inside, reached in the pocket. There was the Heart of the Ocean, in plain sight of Rose. "Rose, do you know what this is?"

"A useless trinket," Rose replied, tearing it from Lora's hands. "A mere bauble. I found a replica of the Heart of the Ocean, and I loved it. Mother always said it fit me well. But I assure you, it has no value since it is only a copy."

"A copy, Miss DeWitt Bukater?" Lora asked.

Rose looked up slowly, placing the necklace in her dress's pocket. "Where did you hear that?"

"The paper," Lora replied. "Some man named John Wilkes called a man named Caledon Hockley to this area to search for a missing woman and a priceless jewel. Everyone knows about it. Why, Rose? Why are you running?"

"I disliked Cal."

"Dislike? I'd say you did more than dislike the man if you ran away even after he gave you that trinket."

"You don't know the whole story."

"I promise not to tell anyone, since you've obviously suffered. But if I am questioned and threatened with jail, I can assure you I won't lie then."

"Do whatever you wish," Rose replied. "Just promise not to tell my Thomas. I love him, and I don't want to hurt him with the false thought that I loved Cal."

"Thomas will never have to know." Lora looked around the room for anyone and leaned closer to Rose. Whispering, she said, "But, Miss DeWitt Bukater, I advise you to leave New York. Mr. Hockley will surely be searching places like this."

"Thank you for you discretion," Rose answered, placing the last dress in the bag. "I am in debt to you, I'm afraid."

"Eh…you're marrying my brother. That's payment enough, to put up with a man like that."

They shared a laugh, and then Rose waited for Thomas to remove her from the shelter...and possibly New York.

XXXXX

"Cedar Rapids?" Thomas asked, looking at Rose in bewilderment, which Rose thought was a look of cuteness on her fiancé.

"I hear it's wonderful. And quiet and beautiful. Why not, Thomas? I'm tired of city life and now I want to explore!" She grinned and looked happily at him for an answer.

"If you are so set on this, I don't see why not. But I'll have no job..."

"You can get a new job," Rose stated clearly. "I was reading about Cedar Rapids in a paper the other day. Quite a lovely place, I'd say."

"All right, but I still can't understand why you want to leave New York so abruptly. From what little I've heard of the place, it sounds a tad bit banal and boring."

"That's me," Rose joked. "I've always grown up around the cities and I want to enjoy the country for a change. Don't you?"

"Yes, but really, Rose. Cedar Rapids?"

"All you had to say was that you didn't care."

"I do care. I would go anywhere for you, as long as I'm with you. I just want to make sure you know that that's what you want."

"It is, Thomas. I know it is."

"As long as you're fine with this—"

"I am fine!" Rose laughed, lightly slapping his arm in a joking manner. She turned to look out the car window. The trees and houses were passing by so quickly. Rose couldn't see where they were going. "So, where is your home, Mr. Calvert?"

"Just around the corner. Anxious, aren't we?"

"Very."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

How wonderful it was to be back in a house again. A house with someone you loved and wanted to be with forever. Rose's heart still ached for Jack, but it was healing slowly, and she was beginning to feel better about life.

"Rose, darling." Thomas nervously knocked on her door. "Are you decent?"

"As decent as I'll ever be," Rose replied, brushing her silky hair. "I'm just finishing up."

"All right. Well, come down to breakfast soon, dear."

"I will. I'm starving." Rose left her seat by the mirror and walked to the door, looking up at her fiancé. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Thomas kissed her forehead. "May I escort you to breakfast?" He jokingly put his arm out, and Rose jokingly accepted.

"Such fine gentlemen in this household. It's a shame I'm already engaged, or else I would leave to be with one of them."

"Your fiancé is lucky to have you, isn't he?"

"Very. I don't know what he'd do without me." Thomas bent down to kiss Rose, when a knock on the door brought them out of their play. "I guess you should get that, Thomas."

Rose went to the kitchen to see what there was to eat. She began to make coffee, when she heard the din out in the parlor. She listened quietly.

"Where is she?" the familiar voice demanded. "Her mother said that she was spotted around this area, and we demand to know where she is!"

"I want my daughter home," the woman added.

"Mother..." Rose whispered to herself as she spilled coffee over the counter. She was startled. How were they able to find her?

"I'm sorry, but I do not know of a Miss DeWitt Bukater," Thomas told the guests. "I'm sorry I can't help you."

Once they were gone, Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "Thomas," she began when he entered the kitchen. "I think we should move to Cedar Rapids as soon as possible. Those lunatics at the door frightened me, and I don't want to have to put up with them again."

"I'll try to move us as soon as I can, darling. I promise."

"Thank you."

XXXXX

Lora stood outside of the bustling household. In and out, in and out. Everyone was busy removing the packages and placing them in Thomas' car. "Tomorrow's the wedding, Rose, dear," she said to Rose. "Shouldn't you be preparing for it?"

"Lora, I must tell you something." Rose pulled Lora over to a tall oak tree. "Last week, Cal and Mother came to the house looking for me. I was frightened, but thank God they didn't have a picture of me to show to Thomas, or he'd have surely said something. I want to leave this place as soon as possible."

Lora stood agape at the statement and put a finger to her lips. "Then you must leave right after the wedding! I see your urgency."

"I was hoping you would, and as soon as the afternoon is over, we shall be leaving to our destination. Thank you for understanding."

"Rose, Lora." Thomas emerged from the doorway carrying quite a large box, filled with Rose's clothes. "I see you're comfortable with your easy task of chatting, as it were. Care to help?"

"We are being called to war." Lora smiled at Rose as they walked inside. "And I wish you all the best with Thomas...and your secret."

"I hope things will sort out," Rose told her, placing a few knickknacks in a package. "I believe my mother caught a glimpse of me after Carpathia arrived at the dock. She called my name and ran after my cab. That is why she probably thinks I am here."

"They're a little too close for comfort, I see."

"Much too close. I can't believe they remained in New York for almost eight months just because my mother thinks I'm alive."

"Aren't you?"

"Rose Dawson is alive," Rose answered sadly. "I killed off Miss DeWitt Bukater. She died on Titanic. Along with—everything."

XXXXX

Flowers, music, and a beautiful smile on Rose's face as she marched down the aisle in a cascade of white veil. Simple elegance, and it was then Thomas realized just how lucky he actually was to have worked on the street where he met Rose. Otherwise, they would never have known one another.

"Do you take this man..."

Rose stared into the eyes of her beloved and smiled even more. How handsome he was! How wonderful he was! How kind and generous he was! She loved him, and knew she would be with him longer than Jack, and finally be happy again.

"Do you take this woman..."

Thomas stared right back at his beautiful bride. He was happy as well, and couldn't believe they would be together forever. At long last, he had found what he had been searching for his entire life.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

All sounds within the church were unobserved by Rose as Thomas kissed her. It was a kiss of love, a sign that they would be together forever. They turned to face Thomas' family in the pews, who applauded them. They descended the stairs of the altar down a red carpet and arrived outside to a greeting of thrown rice and bright sunshine mixed with cheers.

Lora leaned in through the car window and spoke to Rose with a smiling face. "Be good to him, now." She dabbed a tear from her eyes. "He's my only brother. And I'll watch for your mother. I promise."

"Thank you, Lora. I'll miss you. I'll miss everything here."

"And I'll miss you, too." Lora hugged Rose through the car window. "I wish you both luck. Good-bye!"

Thomas and Rose waved as they headed off toward their new home. He had found a wonderful house for them to live in, where they would live as everyone else did, not Rose's previous uppity status.

"I love you, Thomas."

"I love you, too, Rose."

XXXXX

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Rose cried as they entered the grand house. "It's everything I wanted and more!"

The house itself overlooked a vast, glassy lake, surrounded by woods. A few houses dotted the scene, and some boats could be seen on the lake. White siding and green shutters made the house, and it had a large porch in front overlooking the water below the hill.

"Imagine how wonderful it will be to raise children here," Thomas said. "We'll have a terrific life, Rose. In this house is where all your dreams will come true."

"Oh, Thomas." Rose gasped as she swung about the rails on the porch. "I'll spend all my evenings out here, watching the sun set over that gorgeous lake! Let's go boating out there sometime."

"I promise we will," Thomas replied. "But it's getting late, and I'd like to spend more time with my wife in our beautiful new house."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in close, kissing her neck and cheeks. "Thomas!" She giggled as he moved his hands up her back. "This must be quite a sight to the people on the lake below us."

"They can't see anything," Thomas replied, continuing his show of affection and love, kissing the back of her neck and taking down her hair.

Rose was enjoying the way Thomas touched her. It made her feel loved again, and she wanted him to touch her. And it was so lovely outside that the mood was just perfect.

"I'm sure they can see something," Rose answered, leaning herself against the post, Thomas close at her side. A slight breeze moved past them, and Rose savored it.

"Would you rather go inside, Mrs. Calvert?" he asked as he undid her sash.

"Please." Rose smiled as he opened the door, and they walked into the future of their lives.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Hmm." Rose moaned slightly the next morning as she woke to the sunlight. She stretched and noticed her husband laying next to her in a deep sleep. She could hear soft snores coming from his direction, and snuggled up against his back.

"Rose," Thomas whispered as he woke from his sound slumber. He realized that he was now married, and that he had just had a wonderful night with Rose, filled with passion.

He turned over so he could face Rose's slim figure. They lay under the sheets, kissing for a moment, enjoying their first morning together. Rose hadn't wanted last evening to end. It was perfect; everything went right.

"I'm going to make some coffee, dear." Rose tried to escape his hold with a giggle.

"No, you're going to stay right here," Thomas answered her, with soft kisses on her shoulder, moving down her side.

"Thomas, it's almost eleven o'clock. We should get up soon."

"And go where?" Thomas asked with a grin, preventing her from leaving. "Let's stay here all day."

"We have the rest of our lives," Rose stated, laughing as he kept pulling her back. "What if the neighbors came by? We'd be in an awful condition, wouldn't we?"

"I don't care," Thomas replied. "I love you. I want you to stay here."

"All right. But only for a little while, and only because I like you."

XXXXX

"This place is beautiful." Rose squeezed Thomas' hand as they walked down the wooded path that led to the lake.

"It reminded me of you when I first saw it."

The air was chilly, but not as cold as it should have been for December. Rose wore a long coat, almost identical to Cal's, except this one didn't hold a certain necklace so dear to her.

"What's over here by the path?" Rose asked, venturing toward the small cliff overlooking the lake. She could see nothing below but water, not even the ground beneath her feet. Below was a vast blue lake with nobody on it, and it was as still as water could be. Reflecting everything around it, the lake was gorgeous.

"Almost like flying, isn't it?" Thomas asked, holding her waist and snuggling his head in the crook of her neck.

"_Jack, I'm flying!"_

"_Come, Josephine, in my flying machine..."_

"Rose? Are you all right?"

She snapped out of her flashback and realized where she was. The ocean became the lake, and Jack became Thomas. The clear air became the canopy of trees.

"Yes, I'm all right. I was just taken aback by the beauty of the lake, is all."

"Would you like to go and see it up close?"

"Of course. I just wish it wasn't so cold. Even New York was warmer."

They traveled down the dirt path to the water, still as it could be. Few noises were heard, and Rose and Thomas were in their own world. Thomas watched as Rose walked toward the water. A sudden fear swept over her.

"_Jack, there's a boat. Jack. Jack! Jack, there's a boat."_

She shuddered at the remembrance of the chill, and pulled her coat tighter. Why, today, were all the memories flooding back?

"You're pale," Thomas stated, putting his arms around her shoulders. "Maybe we should go back."

"Maybe we should. It is a bit chilly. I'm surprised there's no snow."

"I hope it's a white Christmas. The way things are going, it may be brown and dead."

"I almost forgot about Christmas," Rose told him, as they retreated from the water's edge. "I guess with everything going on, it slipped my mind."

"I love this time of year. All the merriment and festivities. And our first together."

"That makes it all worthwhile." Rose smiled as they approached the house.

XXXXX

"_I love you, Rose."_

"_Jack!" Rose exclaimed as she sat up in bed. Not just any bed, but a bed on Titanic. She recognized her surroundings and reached out to touch them. Then she reached for Jack._

"_Did you think I'd forgotten you?" Jack asked, walking towards her. He sat on the bed beside her and held her close. "Stop crying, for God's sake. Yes, it's really me."_

"_But you're—"_

"_Dead, yeah, I know. It happens to the best of us." He laughed and shrugged it off. "But that doesn't mean I can't still be here with the woman I love."_

"_Jack, I love Thomas. And I love you. You know that, so don't think I betrayed you in any way—"_

"_Betrayed me?" Jack asked. "No, you didn't do that. Did you think it was just fate Thomas found you on the street? I wanted to see you safe."_

"_You mean—"_

"_I've been here all the time, Rose. All you need to do is remember, and I'll be there."_

_The room began to grow brighter and fade away. "I must go," Jack told Rose. "Remember what I said."_

"_I love you, Jack."_

"_I love you, too, Rose. And I miss you..."_

XXXXX

"Rose. Wake up, darling."

"Mmm…Jack," Rose mumbled, with a smile as she turned over in bed, only to see the blank stare of her bewildered husband. "Oh, Thomas..."

"Are you better?"

"Much better, thank you," Rose replied, adjusting herself against the backboard. "I guess I dozed off there for a minute."

"More than a minute. An hour."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Thomas. I'll go make dinner right now."

"That's not it, Rose. Who is Jack? You kept speaking of him in your sleep."

Rose opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. "I—he—we—oh, God, Thomas, can't we have this conversation later?"

"No."

"He was my brother," Rose lied. "He died on Titanic. Are you happy now?" At least it was only half a lie.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought it up if I thought it wasn't important."

"No, it's all right, Thomas. You couldn't have known. I haven't told many people about what happened that night, and the pain is still there."

"I hope it heals."

"It's been eight months, Thomas," Rose said, with tears in her eyes. "In four months, it will be a year. Why does it still hurt?"

"Because you still love Jack."

"_You're trembling."_

"_I'll be all right."_

"What?"

"Your brother."

"Oh, yes, Jack. Yes, I loved him deeply."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. "Well, how about that dinner?" Rose asked as she hopped out of bed.

"That sounds good to me."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"The sunset looks nice over the snow," Rose told Thomas as she stood against the window. "So pink. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a sunset like that."

"Me, too. And as long as I'm with you, I'll forever enjoy every sunset."

"I hope that's for a while." Rose looked down into the lake, which had frozen over. It was Christmas Eve, and families were ice-skating and enjoying themselves. "I hope our family will be like those down there."

"And I hope all our children look as beautiful as you do."

"You flatter me." Rose smiled as Thomas wrapped his arms around her. She drank her hot chocolate and continued watching through the glass. "There's a whole world down there, and for some reason I don't yet feel as though I'm a part of it."

"You will. As soon as we have little kids, we'll be part of that. But right now, it's Christmas Eve. Let's enjoy it."

Rose walked over to a box of Thomas' family ornaments, a box he found in the basement of his last house and thought might come in handy. Their first tree was only about five feet tall and barely reached the ceiling. But it was perfectly wonderful to Rose, whose past Christmases revolved around her mother and gigantic parties, never being able to sit and relax for a moment, and making mindless chatter with eligible men. She was happy those days were gone.

"Baby's First Christmas?" Rose looked at the small silver ornament containing the precious words.

"Oh, my parents," Thomas replied, kneeling next to her at the box. "They got that the year I was born."

"How sweet. My parents never did that for me. Our tree's ornaments were more—oh, I don't know—nothing really of value. Always bedecked with candles and things made of glass. Never anything so sweet as these ornaments."

"We had a memory tree," Thomas recalled, helping Rose put some ornaments on the tree. "Every year we bought one or two new ornaments and collected them until I left. I haven't seen them since, although Lora has put in a few good words for me and says they're fine."

"Let's make our own memories, starting from this Christmas," Rose said excitedly. "I want a memory tree like you had. I've never had one before. What a fun idea!"

"I always thought so."

Rose reached under a blanket in the box to uncover a golden angel. "Oh, isn't this exquisite?"

"That belonged to my grandmother."

"And it will go on top." Rose stood and placed the angel on the tree. Thomas stood next to her, the task at hand complete.

"Here's to Christmas!" Thomas cheered, clinking their cups of hot chocolate together.

"To Christmas."

XXXXX

The day after Christmas was a whirlwind of activity. Taking the tree down, cleaning up from the day before. Thomas had gotten Rose a pretty gold necklace. Nothing like Cal would have gotten her, but it was beautiful. Rose had gotten Thomas a chain for his watch, for he was always complaining he didn't have one. And they were happy.

Carolers had come to the door, bringing tides of great joy and music. And Rose had met a neighbor whom she was sure to become great friends with, for it got lonely when their husbands went off to work.

Myrtle Sinclair was a pretty little thing of only twenty. She had neat blonde hair and large blue eyes with fair skin. Her name was homilized by her beauty. She looked as though she should be named Jezebel or Celeste.

Myrtle lived just across the lake, and with the ice she could just walk across for visits and enjoy a cup of tea or coffee in the afternoon. Mr. Sinclair was a rotund man who guffawed at any joke, his round belly bouncing. Indeed, complete opposites in looks, but so alike in personality and love that they were meant for each other.

"Rose," Thomas said as he fastened his tie. "Is that girl coming over for you today?"

"Myrtle?" Rose asked. "Yes, I believe so. I'm usually bored with you gone to work for the day. They should've given you the whole week off."

"But they didn't, and I'm glad you've found someone to talk to while I'm away."

"I'll still miss you." Rose looked at his tie and straightened it. "You can't go to work looking like your wifey-dear didn't care about your tie."

"Thank you."

He kissed Rose's forehead as he pulled his coat on. "Bye, dear!" Rose called as he walked to the car. The draft made her slam the door before she froze to death.

Rose made herself a pot of coffee before sitting down in the cozy chair she loved. How lonely it was without Thomas. How lonely it was without Jack.

XXXXX

"_Stop fussing about me."_

_Rose looked up to see Jack staring down at her in the chair. "Oh, Jack. It's so hard. My love for you is different than my love for Thomas. I don't know what's wrong with me."_

"_If it helps, I miss you, too. And Jacquelyn."_

"_You know about our daughter?" Rose asked, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I am so sorry I let her slip away. Isn't she with you?"_

"_No. She was too young."_

"_Oh," Rose calmly said as she adjusted herself into the chair better. "Jack, I'm sorry. I really wanted her to live. I truly did."_

"_I know, Rose. You don't have to explain anything to me." Jack sat on the arm of the chair. Rose was hanging on Jack's every word. She missed him so much._

"_Jack, Thomas will never replace you. You will always be my first love. I will honor your memory forever."_

"_And someday, we'll be together again." Jack kissed her. "I promise."_

"_Jack, what's going to happen?"_

_He looked into her eyes as he opened his mouth to speak._

XXXXX

Rose awoke from her slumber in the chair, startled. "Who is it?" she called, noticing she had been asleep for an hour already.

"Myrtle Sinclair," came the reply.

"Oh, dear." Rose ran from the chair to the door and opened it to let poor, cold Myrtle in from the chilly weather. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep and didn't hear you knocking."

"That's all right. I just got here a few seconds ago, anyhow. I crossed the lake and almost got run over by a little boy skating."

"Wasn't that nice of the poor dear?" Rose asked sarcastically. "Please, come in and sit down. The weather's awful, isn't it?"

"Very. I miss David already. When you're in love, every minute apart hurts. If he were to die, I don't know what I'd do."

Rose shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at Myrtle's words. It was difficult losing one whom you loved, especially when they haunted your dreams.

"So, how was the rest of your Christmas?" Rose asked.

"Well, we spent most of the day visiting friends around the lake and writing letters to family and friends across the country...and the world. Some of our friends live in England, you know. As a matter of fact, Louisa sailed on Titanic. But she and her husband died. So tragic, really."

"Titanic was an unneeded tragedy, Myrtle," Rose stated. "It was because we thought we were mightier than God himself. I remember Cal—er—my friend saying that God himself could not sink the ship. He was dead wrong."

"I'd say he was." Myrtle crossed her legs and leaned back. "Why do people always think that? That we can outsmart Him? That's what gets us in trouble every time."

"Every time," Rose said. "You aren't alone in your loss of someone dear to you on Titanic."

"Oh, yes," Myrtle answered. "Thomas mentioned something about a brother of yours. Jack, was it?"

"Yes, it was Jack," Rose replied, angry at where this discussion was going. "Would you like some tea or coffee? Please say yes, or I'll feel like a terrible hostess."

"All right, dear. I can see you don't like this Titanic talk. I'll have tea, please."

Rose excused herself into the kitchen, where she shed a few tears for Jack.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Some new year." Rose sighed as she found a piece of tinsel on the floor from Christmas. _Soon it will be a year without Jack,_ she thought.

"We had our fun," Thomas said as he looked up from his paper. "It was our first holiday together, and I was happy with it."

"Me, too. I guess I'm just in a post-holiday depression. I always get like this after a holiday."

"That just means we'll have to cheer you up." Thomas began to ponder what to do. "What makes you happy?"

"Don't you know by now?" Rose walked over to the big chair and sat on his knee. "You make me happy."

"Well, then how about we stay right here?" Thomas asked with a smile, placing his paper on the small table next to him. "I'm happy, you're happy, we're all happy."

Rose smiled back at him. "At least it's your day off, so I don't have to watch you leave me. I hate when people do that."

"Then I won't leave you unless I have to. You have my word."

"_Promise me this, Rose. Promise me you will survive."_

"_I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go…"_

_Never let go…_

_Never let go…_

"It's getting late," Rose said, rubbing her eyes. The tragic scene of that night was still so clear in her head. "Maybe we should go to bed."

"I'll second that," Thomas said, picking up his wife and holding her as a groom held his new bride across the threshold. "If memory serves me correctly, I never carried you like this when we got married."

"No, you didn't." Rose giggled after she wrapped her arms around Thomas' neck. "But now you have your chance, Romeo."

"Juliet."

Thomas kissed her as they made their way up the stairs.

XXXXX

"Who could that be?" Rose asked herself as a knock sounded on the door. Thomas was at work. "Maybe it's Myrtle."

Rose untied her apron and walked to the front entrance. She almost died when she saw who it was.

"John Wilkes!"

Yes, it was John, all right. Here from New York. "Never thought I'd find you, did you?" He drank from his canteen of whiskey. He was obviously drunk, moreso than Rose had ever seen him.

"Leave! Leave right now!" Rose commanded, pointing out into the road.

"You know, I never did tell your parents about you, Rose," John said, stepping into the parlor. "I thought maybe you'd be grateful and come back to me. But, no! You marry some other man with more money. Is that how it goes?"

"I love my husband," Rose told him, dragging him back to the door.

"Is that what you told your fiancé?" John asked. "Or the father of your child?"

"Go away, John. Please, get out!" Rose shoved him outside.

"I love you, Rose," John pleaded, taking her hands in his. She struggled to free herself, but he kissed her before she could get away.

"Get out!" Rose screamed, as she pushed him into the snow bank in front of the porch. She slammed the door, and collapsed into a sobbing pile against the wall. She could hear him outside, cursing her under his drunken breath, and then she heard his car roar off.

"I don't need this!" Rose cried into her lap. "Not now, not ever. I can't deal with it. I believe he's the reason my baby died, with all the stress he put me through. Having to make me beg to stay..."

XXXXX

"_Oh, Rose," Jack's voice said in her ear. "You have nothing to worry about. He'll stay away. I promise."_

"_Jack." Rose embraced him and cried her tears. "Jack, I miss you so much. In the past month, it felt like my whole past was coming to haunt me. Why, Jack? Why? Please, come back."_

"_You have Thomas, now, and I'm happy you're happy with him."_

"_Oh, I'm terribly happy with Thomas. But I miss you. Have you forgotten what we shared on Titanic? The things we experienced? I'd never felt such love before, and it seems as though I'm supposed to forget it and move on. I just can't."_

"_Don't forget." Jack kissed her head, cradling her in his arms. "What I want you to do is remember, so you treasure every moment with Thomas."_

_Rose smiled. "You always know how to make me happy, Jack. Even when you're dead." Jack laughed at this._

"_Yeah, well, it's a gift. I miss you, too."_

"_Will we ever be together again?"_

"_If we aren't, I'd sue."_

_Rose laughed and fell asleep in his arms._

XXXXX

When she woke up, it was almost dark. Rose could almost still feel Jack's presence. She missed him so much after her dreams. They were so very real, and Jack was so very much alive in them.

XXXXX

"Rose, is something wrong?" Thomas asked as he rolled over on his side to face Rose's back in bed.

Rose turned around. "I can't sleep. I don't know why. I've had such haunting dreams lately."

"Well, I'm right here to protect you," Thomas joked. "Now, stop sitting up and lay down. I won't have you exhausted tomorrow morning. And you need a good night's rest."

"You're right, as usual," Rose told him, getting under the covers. "You're always right. How do you know so much about your little wife? How do you do it?"

"It's a gift."

Rose remembered Jack using the same exact phrase. "You know, Thomas," Rose began, yawning and closing her eyes. "Maybe everything will be all right."

"I hope so," Thomas replied. He turned out the light above the bed. "Now, get some sleep."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Rose brushed her hair and placed the brush on the table. It had been a long day, and she was ready for a pleasant night of dreaming, especially about Jack. She knew she was married to a wonderful man and loved him very much, but Jack would always be her first.

"Good night, Rose." Thomas kissed her neck and sat on the bed. Rose stood from her chair and sat next to her husband.

"Thomas, I love you," she told him.

"I love you, too, Rose." Thomas sat upright, looking into the eyes of the woman he loved more than anything in the world. "Do you think I doubted that you loved me?"

"No, never, Thomas. I was just saying...I don't know. I just wanted you to know. I love you."

"I love you, too," Thomas answered her with a peck on the cheek. Rose blushed as he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her into the bed. They lay in each other's arms until the next morning.

XXXXX

"_I'm here, Rose. You know I can't come every night."_

"_I know, Jack." Rose embraced him and kissed him. "I just missed you tonight. And every night. Why did you die, Jack?"_

"_I had to, Rose. Would you be with Thomas now if I hadn't?"_

"_No, but that's not my point, Jack," Rose said. She didn't cry now, or as often as she used to. She knew Jack was always with her, and even when the pain felt like a sharp stabbing in her heart, she strongly stood with his memory._

"_Please, Rose. You know you can do this," Jack said, making her turn to face him._

"_It's just…it's not even a year. And it feels as if it were yesterday."_

"_I know it does," Jack replied. "Time flies, doesn't it? It seems like only the other day you were living with that John guy."_

"_Jack, please don't bring him back into the picture. That scare last week with him almost broke me. What if he revealed me? And before we moved here, Mother and Cal almost found me. What am I supposed to do about them all?"_

"_You can't erase your past like a mistake in your writing, Rose," Jack said. "They will always be there. Your mother, no matter what she ever said to hurt you, loved you. And when she saw you step into that taxi the day after Carpathia docked, she thought she could win you back. She's your mother."_

"_She hated you."_

"_It doesn't matter. Your mother just wanted you to be well-off with Cal."_

"_I would have been better off with you, either way. I hate her so much."_

"_You shouldn't." Jack hugged her. They could hear a clock strike in the background, probably the old grandfather clock Rose and Thomas had downstairs in the parlor. "I see lots of things for you in the future, Rose. I promise you, you're going to have lots of kids and a happy life."_

"_Jack, what?"_

"_This is the last time I can visit for a while. The next time I see you will be when the time is right."_

"_The time is?" Rose then thought of what he meant. "No, Jack. I can't wait that long. Are you crazy?"_

"_Yes, that's why I trust it." He looked at her longingly and leaned down to kiss her on her full lips. Rose brushed her fingers through his hair._

"_Jack, I love you," she said, as he unbuttoned the back of her dress. Rose quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it carelessly aside. If it was the last time she would see Jack for a while, she was going to make the best of it. And apparently so was he._

XXXXX

Rose stretched as she awoke from her dream. The sunlight shone on her content face. Thomas was still holding her in his arms. She kissed his forehead gently. He smiled.

Last night with Jack made everything clear for her. No more mourning. Jack told her not to. She trusted him, and always would. She wanted children terribly at this point, and could hardly wait until her first-born. Jacquelyn wasn't even a baby when she was born, and Rose wanted a child to nurture and coddle in every way a mother can.

"Rose, are you all right? You're never as cheerful in the morning as you are today, and you've only been awake for five seconds."

"I am just so happy," Rose replied, turning on her side to face him and propping herself up on her left elbow. "I had wonderful dreams last night, and I'm planning on having a wonderful day. How about you?"

"Well, it's the weekend and I don't have to go work at the stuffy old box they call a factory," Thomas answered, smiling smugly. "I have a few ideas about what I'm going to do, as long as you're there."

Rose giggled. "You know I love you more than anything, Thomas."

"I had a hunch, Rose," he said.

XXXXX

"Oh, dear." Rose felt her stomach gurgle. She hadn't felt right all week, and now this.

"Is there something wrong, dear?" Thomas asked over his paper and coffee. He was almost ready for work, and he worried when Rose wasn't feeling well. It made him jumpy all day and anxious to get home.

"I just don't feel well, is all," Rose replied. "Myrtle came to visit a few days ago, and she had the flu when she got home. Maybe I caught something from her. I heard she's still in bed with a temperature that won't quit."

"If that's the case, I'm taking the day off," Thomas said. "I don't need you getting sick on me here, my sweet."

"But your pay envelope won't have as much if you skip," Rose argued. "No, you go to work. I'll be fine. If worse comes to worst, I'll just go to bed. I'll be fine, dear. Please, I'm fine."

"All right, but I'm going to leave a little early just in case. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Thomas." Rose smiled as he kissed her. He picked up his coat and left for his job. Rose would miss his company today.

A week. It had been a week since she last heard Jack's voice in her dreams and seen his face. No picture could have ever been so clear as his appearance in that dream. And she was glad she got to spend one more evening with him before they were forever parted.

A sharp pang in her stomach sent her flying out the door to Thomas. "Thomas, maybe I'm not all right. Can you get me a doctor?"

"Right away. One lives at the end of our road. I'll be back in a moment."

"Thank you." Rose kissed him quickly as he hopped in the car. Something was wrong with her, and she knew it couldn't be—could it?

XXXXX

"A baby." The doctor confirmed Rose's idea. "You're pregnant. Congratulations."

"What?" Rose asked. Then she smiled happily. She lay back on the bed with relief and laughed. "Oh, that just makes my day!"

"Should we call in Mr. Calvert?"

"Please do," Rose told him. "But don't tell him anything, Dr. Stevens. I want to tell him myself."

"Fine with me," the doctor said, as he went to fetch Rose's husband.

Thomas rushed in with a frantic look on his face. "The doctor said it was urgent. Is there something wrong?"

Dr. Stevens excused himself and closed the door. "I'm afraid it will change our lives forever," Rose replied in the gravest voice she could. Then she perked up and smiled again. "I'm pregnant!"

Thomas sighed in disbelief and shock. Then he shook it off and smiled, too. "Rose, this is terrific! I can't believe it! We're going to be parents!"

"I know, and I'm so happy I feel like I'm going to burst!" Rose hugged Thomas, who hugged her back.

"I guess everything has turned out all right for you, then?" Thomas asked.

"My life is perfect."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Oh, Myrtle, it's wonderful of you to come!" Rose exclaimed as she opened the door. Myrtle stood outside, her hands shoved inside her fur muff. She shuddered and walked inside.

The snow blew into the door a little, leaving a small puddle on the floor. Rose took Myrtle's coat and hung it on the rack. Flurries flaked off and added to the puddle.

"What brings you here today?" Rose asked, motioning for her to sit down in the parlor.

"Just to talk. I am feeling much better now, and I haven't seen you in a while because of my illness." She sat in the comfortable blue chair, the one Rose and Thomas often snuggled in on the cold winter nights. With the fire crackling, it was a very cozy room.

"Oh, well, I'm glad you feel better. And I have wonderful news," Rose said, sitting opposite her friend. "Thomas and I are going to have a child."

"That's terrific!" Myrtle cried, jumping in her seat. "I have wonderful news, too!"

"You and—"

"We're having a baby!" Myrtle answered, clapping her hands. "That's why I was a little sick. I guess some of us get it worse than others. Isn't this the best news? Our children can play together! Oh, I am so excited!"

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Rose asked, suddenly remembering it was past lunchtime. "Or something to eat? I was about to make lunch when you came. I'd enjoy the company."

"I'd love to stay," was Myrtle's response as she leaned back in the chair. "My, this chair is comfy. I wish I had one in my house. I'd sit in it all night and just curl up by the fire."

"We do every night. It really makes this house a home," Rose said from the kitchen door.

"Do you want some help?" Myrtle asked as she walked into the kitchen. "I can make very good chicken soup."

"Oh, I'd like that. That's what we need to hit the spot. We mothers need to be cared for, too." Rose smiled at the thought of being called a mother someday. Jacquelyn would never have a chance to call Rose Mother.

They prepared quite a feast for lunch and dined in the dining room. It was a celebration, really, of life and children. Thomas had been happy, and they had celebrated as well, but this was somehow different.

"Rose, I'm not feeling so well," Myrtle said, after they had finished eating. "I hate to have to cut our lunch short, but I think I'd better start home."

"All right, Myrtle," Rose said, helping her friend with her coat. "Be careful. It's freezing outside."

"Thank you for lunch, Rose. Be sure to stop by sometime."

"I will," Rose called to her as she left. The snow poured into the house again, and Rose slammed the door shut. Then she watched to make sure Myrtle made her way down the embankment safely. So far, it had been a wonderful day.

If only she had known.

XXXXX

"Rose," came Thomas' weak voice as he entered the front door.

"Thomas?" Rose asked as she placed the last of the clean pots in the cupboard. "Is something wrong? Oh, my God!" she shrieked, as she saw the blood-soaked shirt covering Thomas' chest.

Thomas held his hand to his face, his lip split and his nose bleeding. His eye was black-and-blue, and his legs wobbled a bit.

"Oh, sit down." Rose forced him into a chair. "Thomas, what happened? Thomas? Thomas!"

Her husband sat unconscious before her. She was helpless. What was she going to do? Quickly, she ran a piece of old cloth under the faucet, making sure the water was cold. Then she washed his face clean, hoping the wounds would heal nicely.

When Thomas awoke, Rose had moved him to the couch in the parlor and removed his shirt, replacing it with a new one. She sat staring into the fire, a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Rose?" he asked meekly.

"Oh, Thomas," Rose started. She put her coffee on the table and leaned over to hug him. "I was so scared. What happened? Tell me, what happened?"

"It's all a blur," Thomas answered, feeling a bump on his forehead. Rose had placed a cold towel on it in hopes of making the swelling go down. "Some man was outside. He said his name was John something. It started with a w. Then he just flat out punched me."

"Wait," Rose said, hurrying to the window. The night was placid, except for a few snowflakes here and there. But that was expected in the middle of winter.

She breathed a sigh of relief that John wasn't there, and calmly returned to the couch. "I don't know anyone named John, dear. I'm sorry. I wish I'd have met you outside like I usually do."

"And what could you have done?" Thomas chuckled. "Fight him off with a stick?"

"I could have helped," Rose stated.

"I didn't mean to say you couldn't," Thomas said seriously, realizing he had just hurt his wife's feelings. He stroked her hair. It fell lusciously onto her shoulders. "I just meant I didn't want you to end up like this."

"I'm just glad you're all right." Rose kissed his cheek and hugged him close. "I don't know what I would have done if you never woke up."

"So, how's the mommy-to-be?" Thomas asked as she leaned back, sitting on his lap in front of the warm fire. He placed a hand on her stomach.

"You won't feel it kicking yet, Thomas." Rose giggled. "I've been pregnant a few weeks only."

"I just can't wait. I'm much too impatient."

"No kidding," Rose said as he bent over, kissing her neck. She wrapped her arms around him backwards, letting him continue to kiss her. The room grew hotter as she turned around to meet his kiss.

They lay down together on the couch in the common spoon position. Rose was tired and wanted to fall asleep in his arms. "I love you, Rose," Thomas told her, as he touched her left breast. He kissed her again.

"I love you, too, Thomas." Rose smiled as she fell asleep.

XXXXX

Rose threw the pillows on the couch, fixing up the room a bit from sleeping there last night. Thomas was already at work, feeling better since the encounter with John the previous day. She had wanted him to stay home and recuperate, but he wanted to go and earn his money.

As she folded the fluffy blanket, she also looked outside the window. What she saw almost made her faint. John was standing at the opposite end of the yard, right by the path leading to the lake.

Rose tossed the blanket down in a rage and headed straight for the door. Without a coat, she still didn't feel a chill as the anger boiled deep inside her.

"How dare you hit my husband!" Rose shook a finger in front of his face as he glanced at her face.

"How dare you lie to me," John answered, gulping his liquor. He twisted the cap back on and stood facing her, his body twisting, he was so tall. "You told me the most outrageous of lies."

"I had to," Rose said. "To protect myself and my baby. Please don't bring up the past."

"Can't handle it?"

"I can handle it just fine, thank you," Rose replied. She crossed her arms and directed her icy stare into the snowy ground. "Please leave us. You have no need to be here. We have no need of you."

"I won't leave until you come back to me." John stepped closer, pressing his lips to hers. It was so filled with passion, Rose almost thought it reminded her of Jack. But she pushed him to the ground.

"Go away from here!" Rose ordered. "Leave us be, you bastard! I hate you!"

"Fine," John said, breathing deeply and wiping something from his chin. "I'll go for now. But I will come back for you later."

He sauntered down the road, so full of confidence and egotism it made Rose sick. How could he be so sure about them? It made her detest the sight of him more. She ran into the house and bolted the door, hoping she would never have to see his face again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

"What is there to do today?" Rose asked excitedly as Thomas came down the stairs. It was the weekend again, and he had just woken up; it was almost noon.

"I don't know." Thomas pondered, hugging Rose like he did every morning. "What do you say we should do?"

"That's what I asked you, silly." Rose laughed. "I'm serious, now. There's not much to do today, so let's do something fun. Something we haven't done yet. Adventurous."

"Well…" Thomas rubbed his chin just the way Rose liked. It made him look handsome and sophisticated. "Let's go to the lake. Skating, perhaps. We haven't done that."

"Thomas, I can't skate," Rose stated. "I'd fall right down. The last time I skated was when I was a child."

"It will come right back to you, the balance, the speed," Thomas promised as he took her hand. "Let's go right now. Grab your coat."

"I—oh." Rose looked at how happy he was and knew he was right. "Oh, all right."

They quickly took what they needed and ran down the path to the lake. Rose slipped in the snow once, but quickly dismissed the incident with a laugh as Thomas pulled her back to her feet.

"Is there a place where we can rent ice skates?" Rose asked. "We don't own a pair."

"Right there." Thomas pointed at a small wooden booth by the lake. "They're only the kind you attach to your shoes, but they'll work."

Thomas got the skates and they sat on a bench. Rose had a dreadful time of attaching them to her boots, and in the end, Thomas had to help her.

"Come on." Thomas reached his hand out and took hers. She tiptoed her way to the edge of the reflective ice, seeing her mirrored image below her. As soon as she touched the shiny surface, she slid into Thomas' arms. He caught her, and they laughed.

"I told you I wasn't a good skater," Rose said up to his face as he looked down at her in his arms.

"No kidding," Thomas said. "Come on. You can skate. Just remember to keep your back straight and not to rush yourself. Bend your knees. There you go."

Rose was skating along clumsily, and Thomas was applauding her. "Oh, stop, Thomas. I look utterly ridiculous. Stop clapping, Thomas. It isn't funny!"

Thomas was still laughing when she fell into a pile of snow near the edge. "That's the second time today," he tsk-tsked. "I'm afraid you can't even walk."

"I can too walk!" Rose smiled as he helped her back up onto the slippery, wet surface. "I do not like this activity you have chosen for us."

"That's odd, because I'm enjoying it immensely." He kissed her and noticed flurries floating onto her strawberry hair. "It's snowing again, Rose."

Rose looked up at the sky and felt like a child when they played in the snow, trying to catch the flakes on their tongue. "The snow is so beautiful here, Thomas. I'm glad this is where we live. Aren't you?"

"I'm with you. That's all that matters."

They remained at the lake until the sun began to set, casting a pink and orange glow on the fresh snow. Thomas returned the skates and they began the journey home. Rose, as it turned out, became quite a good skater and wanted to go back some other time.

The couple neared the house when it was dark. The sky was perfectly clear, and all the stars could be seen. "Look, Rose." Thomas pointed into the dark mass. "A shooting star. Make a wish."

Rose knew exactly why the star was there, and made a private wish. _I hope all is well, Jack. I hope you are happy._

XXXXX

Rose sewed the button on with great care. For some reason, Thomas' buttons could never stay on a shirt, and Rose always ended up sewing them back on every other day. Thomas sat on the couch, stretched out and reading his paper.

"Isn't this interesting?" he commented. Rose glanced up and then directed her eyes once again to the task at hand.

"What is, dear?"

"That John Wilkes fellow who fought me the other day," Thomas said. "There's an article about him in the paper."

"What for?"

"He hanged himself in his hotel room."

Rose dropped her sewing basket and rushed to Thomas, tearing the paper from his hands. "I don't believe this!" she cried, reading the article.

Man Kills Himself 

Today in the Eastern Hotel, a man's body was found hanging from the ceiling. From his identification, it was apparently John Wilkes from New York. No one in the town knows him well, and it is still unclear why he was here. A note was found on his desk, apparently a note about his unrequited love whose name was not revealed to sources. More in the later edition.

"What is it, Rose?"

"Oh, nothing. I don't know why I got so upset. Just my nerves."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Thomas asked. "You seem a little jumpy."

"I'm fine. Although…could you give me the later edition tonight? I'd like to see what they have to say."

"All right." Thomas scratched his head, not really knowing what was going on. How could he?

Rose told herself that it wasn't her fault. Then she would switch over to it was completely her fault. Wrestling with her different thoughts, she set her mind to discovering what the note exactly said. She didn't want her name floating around town.

_At least my past is now at rest, _she thought. _Now Thomas will certainly never know._

XXXXX

The nightly edition of the paper had arrived, and Thomas left Rose alone in the bedroom to read it. Indeed, the note John had left had been published, although Rose's name had been omitted.

_My sweet--,_

I loved you the first moment I saw you after that tragic night. We both lost someone, and we were connected. We were supposed to be soulmates and lovers, not just shipmates and friends. Please, I can't live without you anymore, to see you running around happily with that man. If this note ever reaches you, remember my love for you was pure. Is pure.

Rose couldn't help the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes. In the days when they were friends, he was a kind and caring man, not conniving as he had been in the past few months.

In the end, Rose couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

She tore the note from the newspaper and scrunched it into the littlest ball she could form. Then, with perfect accuracy, she threw it into the fire.

XXXXX

"Mail, mail, mail," Rose said to herself as she threw some onto the table. She sat beside it in a kitchen chair and began to sort through the letters and taxes. She did come across one letter of importance, however.

_Dear Rose,_

_It is I, your mother. Indeed, I have found you at last, and wish I could apologize for my rude behavior so very long ago. I only know where you live, not much of the other things. Cal has left me. He has no use for me and I am broke. Your fiancé found another woman and apparently I am nothing anymore. Please let me come visit you. I miss you so much, and I have something I need to say._

Your Mother,  
Ruth DeWitt Bukater

Rose sat in stunned silence. How had her mother tracked her down? Lora promised not to tell. Should she reply?

"It could be a trick," Rose said. "She just wants to find me and drag me back. Or maybe Mother just wants me for money and necessities, not love. What should I do?"

The rest of the afternoon, Rose sat in the same spot, contemplating whether or not to reply.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Oh, Mother, what can I say to you?" Rose asked herself as she dropped into the chair at her bedroom desk. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows. Rose rubbed her eyes and opened the drawer next to her. Underneath her wooden jewelry box, which contained the most precious jewel ever known, lay paper and pens. She extracted them, slamming the drawer, and returning to the letter she needed to write.

"I have to write this," Rose kept telling herself. "If I don't, my life will be completely different. I must tell Mother everything."

She began to etch the tale of her life since Titanic, leaving a few details out, like her encounters with John Wilkes.

_Dear Mother,_

_Yes, you have found me, and I congratulate you. I didn't think it would be so easy. I guess you're wondering what has been going on in my life, I mean, what with myself moving to Cedar Rapids. After Titanic, I gave birth to Jack's child four months prematurely. Unhappily, I cursed myself to the slums of New York, where I met a man named Thomas Calvert. He cared for me, and eventually we fell in love. We married a few months ago, and now I am to give birth to his child. I am as happy as I'll ever be. Thomas does not know about Jack or my daughter who was Jack's baby, nor do my friends know. I would appreciate if it remained that way._

_Rose_

Rose glanced the letter over, praying that it sounded right and this whole ordeal wasn't a trick for her to get back with Cal. Even so, at least her mother could rest at ease and these foolish games could stop once and for all.

Scribbling her mother's hotel residence on the envelope, Rose stuffed the letter inside hurriedly and rushed to dress. If she met the postman outside with the letter, there was a better chance Ruth would receive the message as quickly as possible.

She ran out to the postman and tried to catch her breath. "Please, sir, it is urgent and of utmost importance," she told him, handing him the letter that contained her message. "Make sure she gets it well."

"All right, Ma'am." The postman tipped his hat and wandered on his merry way. Rose sighed and hoped she hadn't just made a terrible mistake.

XXXXX

"So is that all that happened during your day?" Rose asked a few days later as she and Thomas talked over dinner. "Didn't anything exciting happen?"

"It never does. I've been thinking about becoming a lawyer. I have the education and everything needed."

"But what about your current job?" Rose asked.

"It doesn't pay much and it keeps me away from home much too long. As a lawyer, I could stay here more. And I want to be here when the baby comes. No risk of you being here alone."

"That's a while off yet, don't you think?" Rose sliced a piece of chicken. "I mean, I'm only one month pregnant, Thomas."

"It doesn't matter. And it's a month-and-a-half that you're pregnant."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Rose excused herself as she left the table to answer the caller. When she opened the door, she couldn't believe what she saw. Everything went white, then black, and then she fainted.

XXXXX

"_Where am I?" Rose asked nobody as she wandered about the cloudy white room._

"_The unconscious is a wonderful thing," answered a voice._

"_Father?" Rose asked, stunned. She placed a hand to her throat and followed the voice to where her father stood in the mass of clouds about them._

"_You did the right thing," her father said, holding her in his grasp. "Writing to your mother was the best thing you could do."_

"_What?" Rose asked, confused, as the room began to fade. "No, Father! No, come back!" The room faded into darkness and dissolved into her mother's face._

XXXXX

"Mother!" Rose cried as she woke up. Thomas had moved her to the couch, and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater hung at Rose's side.

"Oh, thank goodness. We thought we'd lost you for sure," Ruth said, running her fingers through Rose's hair.

"Your mother has come for a visit," Thomas said, leaning against the fireplace.

"So I see, but, why—how?" Rose tried to sit up, and discovered that she really couldn't.

"Your letter made me come. I'm so happy you're married to a wonderful man. I only wish I had been here through the good times—and bad."

Rose knew what she meant. She only hoped that nothing would be revealed to Thomas about her past. "Thomas, I'm still feeling a little faint. Could you fetch the doctor, dear?"

"Of course, darling." Thomas leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll get him for you. In your condition, we can't take any chances."

"Thank you." Rose watched as he took his coat and left for the doctor.

"So, you didn't really tell me much." Ruth looked uncomfortable, even with her own daughter.

"There is much to say, although I don't like to discuss it," Rose curtly replied. "Where is Cal?"

"Like I said," Ruth answered. "He met another rich girl and left me to fend for myself. He didn't really care about you. But I was left poor and all alone. I saw you at the dock that dreadful day and knew you were alive, so I promised myself I would find you. Cal gave up after several months. And we did find you that once. Thomas was the man who answered the door when we came."

"And that is why we came here," Rose added. "But already I had met someone else who spent the first months with me. His name was John Wilkes—"

"The man who wrote the letter!" Ruth exclaimed. "You are the woman he wrote of! It was in all the papers."

"Yes. He was with me through the birth of Jacquelyn, and her death. He got me back on my feet. But there were problems. Numerous problems."

"You don't have to tell me," Ruth said. "And what about Jack?"

"He saved my life in so many ways. That's all I want to say."

"I wish I had been here for you." Ruth hugged her daughter. "It was wrong of me to be mad at you and Jack for loving each other."

"I wish you hadn't been so mad, too." Rose smiled as she looked up at her mother. She placed a hand on her stomach. "Mother, I wonder what my child will be like."

"I hope a lot like you," Ruth replied, putting her hand on Rose's. "Because you turned out wonderful. And I know one thing. I am going to spoil this baby rotten, and you can't stop me."

"Please, spoil him like every grandmother does." Rose laughed. "That's all I want. A family. I am going to be a mother."

XXXXX

Rose climbed the stairs, extra blankets flung over her shoulder. It was a comical sight, but it had to be done. Ruth was to sleep in the spare room at the end of the hall, and they were going to fix it up tonight.

Ruth stood in the center of the room by the bed. "This is quite a cozy house, dear. Marvelous, really."

"Thank you. I try to clean every day, but sometimes it doesn't work."

"Rose, how do you still feel about Jack?"

Rose placed the blankets at the bottom of the bed and stood slowly, remaining silent. "Well, I still love him very much. I always will. It still hurts to think about him and the part he has played in my existence. But now I have Thomas and my new baby-on-the-way. The pain isn't as sharp as it once was."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ruth said, pulling the covers up. "I wouldn't want to see you still so sad when you have such a wonderful life around you."

Then, out of the blue, Ruth hugged her daughter out of pure love. Nothing more. It had been forever since they shared an embrace. And Rose couldn't ask for anything more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Rose lay in bed, three months into her pregnancy. It was the third day of April, almost a year since she had met and lost Jack. Her Jack, no one else's. He had been her property until the very end. The love of her life. And then there was Thomas...

Cramps came and left, and Rose entwined herself in her sheets. What was wrong with her baby? It had been perfectly fine until she awoke this morning, with severe nausea and an extreme headache. Never had it been so severe until now.

"Rose, are you all right?" Ruth quietly opened the door, peering in on her daughter. "Should we call the doctor?"

"Yes," Rose replied. "Please. I want—I want this one to survive."

"I'll tell Thomas. He's frightfully worried about you, dear."

"Please hurry," Rose pleaded, grasping her pillow and burying her face inside. She didn't want anyone to see her cry, blinking the tears of pain from her eyes.

Ruth hurriedly left, and Rose could hear her pounding footsteps tramp down the stairs. How everything ached! At only three months. At least she was beginning to show, unlike her last pregnancy. But something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Pulling her knees into her chest, she lay like that until the good doctor came, examining every inch of her body. "Nothing wrong that I can see," he told her. "Just normal pregnancy woes. You're in the throes of motherhood, is all."

"Are you positive? It really hurts, doctor."

"As positive as I've ever been. That baby's healthy, I say."

"Thank you for coming," Ruth said. "Thomas," she called into the hallway, where Thomas was waiting impatiently. "Please show the doctor to the door."

"I am so relieved." Rose sighed as the doctor was escorted downstairs. "I was expecting the worst, and I've heard everything about motherly instincts being right, and all. I was worried."

"Too worried." Ruth sat next to her on the bed. "Not every little pain means disaster. Why don't you get some rest? I can tell you still hurt."

"I do. Very much."

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll make a lunch for Thomas. I'm sure he won't want to go in for his afternoon shift today."

"He wants to become a lawyer. Be closer to home while I'm pregnant."

"It would be best," Ruth stated. "More money, closer to home...the list of positive qualities is endless."

"I don't see why men always feel the need to hop from one job to another, when the first was well enough."

"With his salary now, will he be able to support you and the baby?"

Rose was silent, intently thinking of how much a family, no matter how small it was, would cost. "I'm afraid not, and even if it did, we'd barely have enough money for other things."

"He knows what he is doing. Trust him."

"I always have trusted people," Rose answered. "Sometimes a little too much."

Ruth knew what Rose was saying and decided perhaps she should leave now, before the topic of conversation got somewhere it shouldn't go. "I'm going to start on that lunch. I'll make a little extra in case you feel a little hungry later."

"I'll try for dinner," Rose said, snuggling back into her bed.

"All right."

XXXXX

Rose opened her eyes, and the first thing she noticed was how dark it was in the room. She picked her watch off the night stand and looked at the time. It was almost six o'clock; she had slept the entire day.

She got out of bed, pulling on her robe, and walked slowly down the stairs. Ruth and Thomas sat by the fireplace, Thomas with his newspaper, and Ruth with her sewing.

"And here's sleeping beauty," Ruth said, noticing Rose looking at them.

"Beauty, indeed." Thomas helped Rose over to a chair.

"Oh, please, I must look a fright. My hair is sticking out—"

"You look beautiful." Thomas kissed her cheek and replaced himself in his seat.

"You missed dinner, dear," Ruth said. "I saved you some extra, if you'd like some. It's not much, but it's the best I could do."

"I'm really not hungry now," Rose replied. "Maybe later. I hope I feel hungry tomorrow, or else something is wrong."

"The doctor said there is nothing to worry about." Ruth sighed. "Pessimistic Rose."

"I'm rarely pessimistic," Rose stated. "Hell, I was very optimistic when Jack—I mean, in many different situations."

"In any case, the baby is fine," Ruth said, hoping Thomas didn't catch that last part. Indeed, he didn't, for he was too involved with the black text he was reading.

"Have you heard anything on Myrtle?" Thomas asked.

"Who is Myrtle?" Ruth asked back.

"My friend across the lake," Rose answered, happy for a change in conversation. "She's having a child as well. We hope to raise them together. Myrtle has been very ill lately, and I haven't heard much."

"Why don't you go over there and find out?" Ruth interrogated.

"It's not my place. If I hear anything, it will be when someone tells me, not when I ask them."

"Suit yourself." Ruth sighed.

Rose had thought her mother was getting better. But in the past few days, Rose could tell Ruth was slipping back into her old habits, being critical and cynical. Rose hated it and wanted to scream, feeling constantly smothered.

"I think I'll go back upstairs. Maybe I'll be able to work myself into a hunger by walking."

Ruth couldn't take joke. "I don't think that will happen."

Rose eyed her mother angrily and stormed up to her room. Maybe Thomas would come and be with her soon. She prayed so.

XXXXX

Thomas threw his arm around Rose as they lay together in bed. "Is something on your mind, dear?" he asked.

"How could you tell?"

"Because you always discuss what's on your mind before you go to sleep, and today you didn't. I got worried because you didn't fulfill your habits."

"Oh, well, yes. In fact, there are many things that are on my mind."

"Like?"

"Like how it has been almost a year since Titanic, and since I lost—since so many people died. So much tragedy and unexplained losses. Why do people think they can tempt fate?"

"Because we think we are the most powerful living creatures on earth."

"And what about the most powerful of them all? What about God? He saw this coming. He knew what was going to happen to us all. And yet He didn't try to stop it, either."

"It was a sign that maybe we should rethink our existence," Thomas told her. "Maybe we are becoming so superficial we aren't really thinking about our lives anymore."

"I'm thinking constantly about my life, and I still can find no deeper meaning except that I am alive."

"Maybe that's all we're supposed to know."

Thomas turned off the light, leaving the room in darkness. Rose thought about what he had said, taking it all in. She knew that as the year since Titanic ended, she would begin to think about her time with Jack again. She wanted to continue loving him more than ever, but she didn't want the memories to hurt as they did. Would they ever stop?

Rose felt her swelling stomach and knew that Jack's child had once lived inside of her. And now they were both gone. Both memories dead. If only the other ones would have the same fate.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Rose stood on the small cliff overlooking the lake beneath her. It was beautiful today, April thirteenth. It was the day that made it exactly one year since her dinner with Jack. One year since the steerage dance. One year...one year...

Rose fought the thoughts out of her head, hoping to make everything clear again. She was married, Goddammit, and she wanted all of her memories to leave forever. For good.

She rubbed her stomach, thinking of the child growing inside of her. "Your child was once here, Jack. Once. Once."

She felt a tear roll down her cheek. Tomorrow, it would be an entire year since she and Jack had spent that precious moment in the Renault. That moment where she conceived. And she hated thinking back then.

"Rose!" Myrtle called from inside the house. "Come look!"

Rose ran to Myrtle's side. Indeed, Myrtle was actually five months with child, unlike Rose. And the baby was kicking. Thomas had his hand placed over the womb.

"Someday, we'll be doing this, Rose. In a few more months." Thomas continued to smile.

Myrtle looked absolutely stunning this day. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a gorgeous style, and she wore a beautiful, white, flowing dress. On the couch, she looked like a large buoy, hovering above it.

"Myrtle, you look so lovely. You have that motherly glow already," Rose stated, admiring Myrtle's newly rotund figure.

"Corsets are beginning to be a pain," Myrtle said when Thomas left. "Really, I barely fit into them now. It's horrible. I get fatter by the minute."

"I can hardly wait," Rose said sarcastically. "You didn't really begin to show until the beginning of the month. And you had been so ill, as well."

"Yes, well, I heard about your little scare last week. I'm glad everything is fine with your baby."

"Thank God, and knock on wood." Rose tapped the table next to them.

"Our children are going to be perfect for each other," Myrtle said dreamily. "I'll have a pretty little girl, who will look wonderfully like me, and you'll have a strapping young boy that looks just like Thomas. Let's play matchmaker before the young lovers are even born!"

They giggled at the thought. "We are like sisters. Why not be actually related?" Rose told Myrtle.

"We need to come up with names. If I have a girl, I'm naming her Emily Elaine. If I have a boy, his name will be Robert. How about you?"

"I guess I haven't thought of it yet." Rose frowned at her incompetence. "I'm surprised at myself, and a bit ashamed. I guess I've always liked the name Catherine. But for a boy—Andrew. That was my father's name. It sounds right. Doesn't it?"

"Andrew Calvert." Myrtle sighed. "Dreamy. I love the name Emily Elaine Sinclair. It's a much better name than my parents gave me."

"Your name is beautiful," Rose said. "I mean, I never exactly liked my name, either."

"But your name is so pretty." Myrtle sighed again. "I would never curse my child with some wretched name. Like Helga or something."

"Brunhilda." Rose laughed. Myrtle laughed along. "You know what is a pretty name, though, Myrtle? Anneliese. My best friend growing up was named Anneliese and I've always loved it."

"My best friend was named Ainsley. I like that name, too. Oh, now you're getting me all confused about what to name my child!"

They laughed again, and Rose's excitement over the baby began to grow.

XXXXX

April fourteenth. The day haunted Rose all over again. All day it rained, and mist filled the air. It was hard to breathe, and not a day you would want to go outside.

"Thomas, do you remember what happened a year ago this day?"

"Titanic. Says so in the papers."

"Yes. Tragic. A whole year, Thomas, and it seems only like yesterday."

Thomas pulled her onto the couch next to him, placing her in the very spot Myrtle was in the day before. "Look at where your life is now."

"I wouldn't exchange it for anything in the world," Rose admitted. "I love you, I love our baby, and I love the Sinclairs. I love all of you."

"So why reminisce about horrible things?"

"I don't know. They aren't like pencils where you can erase your mistakes or things that go terribly wrong. I wish I could, but I can't."

"Rose, look at me. I am here for you. Just don't go completely insane about the entire ordeal. Please."

Rose laughed. "I promise to keep my sanity if it means staying locked in our room for the next year."

"Well, I wouldn't mind that as long as I was with you." Thomas squeezed her hand.

"Maybe I should go insane just for your benefit." Rose kissed him.

"In that case, go right ahead."

XXXXX

The clock struck two o'clock. Exactly one year since the ship went down. Since Jack died. Since Rose was rescued in a drunken-like daze. Since she met John.

That entire story sent a shiver down her spine. A man had loved her and died. Another man had loved her and killed himself. Her past love-life didn't look promising for what she had with Thomas.

Rose sat in the parlor by herself, Thomas having gone to bed hours ago. "Jack, wherever you are, I miss you. I miss my dreams about you. I miss your voice, your face, your soft touch..."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she watched the clock. So many people had died. All those lives lost for the ocean's taking. Where were they now?

"Why should I live while all of you died?" Rose asked herself. "There were many more of you who deserved life more than I ever will. Cora!"

She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. A poor little girl had lost her short life while Rose had taken her place on this earth. And for that, Rose could never forgive herself.

But then there was Thomas. Without her life, she wouldn't have him, her child, or Myrtle. She wouldn't be happy, although she would be with Jack. And this was what he wanted for her.

Yes, this was what he wanted, and Rose had to accept it. Sometimes, she wished she had never kept her promise to him. Other times, she was thankful he gave her the strong will to survive that cold night. But now, she didn't know what to think. It had been one year.

Exactly one year...


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

"What do you mean the baby's coming now?" Ruth asked in a panic, almost pushing Rose onto the bed. "And you didn't say anything?"

"I thought—I thought—"

"Don't think anymore!" Ruth yelled. Thomas was outside, pacing the hall. Rose had been having contractions for almost thirty minutes now, and hadn't said a word. "Look, just lay there and do what I tell you to do."

"Sounds like my childhood, Mother." Rose sighed. "Always just sitting there and listening to what you have to say."

"Well, if you don't do it this time, you and your baby are going to die!"

Rose was stunned by her mother's harsh words, and leaned against the backboard. "It hurts so much. I think I'll just explode if the pain doesn't stop."

Ruth placed a few towels at the foot of the bed. "These will come in handy." Rose winced in pain as another contraction came and passed.

"Now, I'm going to need you to push," Ruth said.

"You are going to need me to push?" Rose asked. "No, I think I'm going to need me to push."

"Just do it." Ruth sighed.

XXXXX

Rose awoke from her slumber, sore and still tired. Thomas lay next to her, holding her hand. "We thought we'd lost you," he said.

"What?"

"You fainted on us," Thomas explained, kissing her hand. "That is, after the baby was born."

"Oh, the baby. What is it?"

"It's a boy," Thomas proudly answered. "And he's sleeping downstairs. Your mother has taken care of him all day for you."

"I'm not so sure that's a good thing," Rose stated. "But, anyway, please bring him upstairs. I'd love to hold him."

"Are you strong enough?"

"Perfectly. Just sore. Has the doctor been here yet?"

"A few hours ago. He said everything is well."

"Thank God."

The little boy was carried to the room by Ruth, who was happy to show off her grandson. "He's the cutest little thing," she cooed.

Rose took her son in her arms, looking at his little cherubic features. At only a few hours old, he had a full head of deep brown hair, just like his father. And, indeed, he was the cutest little thing.

"And to think he caused so much pain." Rose laughed. "This—this tiny—baby."

"It's a shame you don't have a name yet," Ruth commented.

"Oh, but I do," Rose replied with a smirk. "Myrtle and I have come up with such wonderful names for our babies. When she had Emily Elaine, I firmly decided what the names would be for a boy and girl. And since it is a strapping young boy, his name is Andrew."

Ruth stepped back. "You named him after your father?"

"It was fitting and convenient, wasn't it? I miss Daddy so much, so my child will be his namesake."

The act touched Ruth's heart in a way, but it is hard to change once you are set in your ways. Every time she would look at that little baby, she would only remember her husband and cry.

Rose handed Andrew to Thomas, who held him with care. "I've never really been around babies before. All my brothers and sisters were older than me."

"It's time you learned, then," Ruth told him. "But it looks as though you're doing fine."

"Mother, please send word to the Sinclairs about my baby, will you? I know Myrtle has been anxious for him to be born so our children could be playmates."

"They're too young to be playmates, dear." Ruth pulled Andrew away from her daughter, Rose still grasping for him. "Now, you rest, and I'll go put Andrew in his cradle to sleep. It's getting late, and babies sleep very much."

"But, Mother, I—"

"Let me handle this," Ruth snapped. Rose recoiled into Thomas' arms and lay her head against his shoulder.

"We need to send her away, Thomas. Now or never. She'll try to raise him, and tell me what to do and say that everything I'm doing is wrong."

"Let her be for now. She'll get over it, and soon everything will be back to normal."

"Thomas, we have a son. Nothing will ever be normal again!"

XXXXX

"Oh, isn't he darling?" Myrtle asked, tickling the sides of the newborn Andrew. Rose was up and about again, and had invited Myrtle over with baby Emily.

Myrtle looked fabulous for a new mother, and was already down to her original size. She wore a flowing white dress, her blonde hair pulled back in a French twist. In her arms lay Emily Elaine.

"Let's get them married," Myrtle suggested. "Or set them up now so that they can never love anyone but each other."

"Where do you get your ideas?" Rose asked with a laugh, giving Andrew a bottle and holding him up.

"It's how everyone used to do things," Myrtle replied, holding a toy over Emily. The baby kept reaching for it, and falling back again.

"Your daughter is older than my son," Rose teased. "Maybe he wouldn't like that when he seeks a girl for marriage."

"Oh, well. I do hope Emily is pretty when she grows up. I want her to be popular with her peers, and have young boys fawning over her."

"Why?"

"There was a girl in my school growing up who was teased to no end for her looks, Rose. She never married."

"Are you sure it was only because she wasn't gorgeous? Everybody has something beautiful in them."

"Well, she did punch a boy in the face, once. Perhaps that's why they stayed away. And maybe now she's married, for I haven't seen her in years."

"See? Anyhow, I want Andrew to be handsome. Just because. No other reason."

"You will have the handsomest family in town, Rose. With you and Thomas' good looks, your genes will certainly be passed to your children."

"As long as they all have ten fingers and ten toes, I'll be happy."

"Me, too. I want to have hundreds of children, but for now, only one is fine."

"Andrew kept us awake all night. He just kept crying and crying."

"Babies want their mothers constantly," Myrtle said. "All the time, if I'm not around, Emily wails for me."

"Andrew, as well. But he has also taken to Thomas and my mother. And we haven't been around many strangers to notice how he acts around them."

"He seems to be a good baby, Rose. Children are a blessing."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"What—" Rose sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Andrew wailed in the other room. Thomas rolled over beside her, turning on the light above the bed. "Thomas, what time is it?"

"Three o'clock in the morning." He groaned. "I think he wants you."

"I'd rather him want you right now," Rose replied, dreary-eyed, her words slurring, as she left the comfort of bed. "But you have work tomorrow. I'll go get him back to sleep."

She wandered into Andrew's nursery, surprised to see her mother already there, holding the baby in her arms. "Mother, I think I can handle—"

"Shh, Rose. He's almost asleep again. I thought I'd save you the trouble of waking up, but I see I haven't."

"He's loud enough to wake the dead." Rose laughed, leaning against the door. "But I wouldn't trade him for another baby. No. I love him too much."

"Have you been thinking about Jack lately?" Ruth asked, putting the sleeping baby back in the crib. "You seem a little melancholy."

"For some reason, I dream about Titanic. I honestly don't want to, but—but—I can't help it. It's been over a year, and I just want to forget."

"You don't forget something as easily as you wish you could, my dear," Ruth said. "After all, Jack was there. And I'm almost positive you'll never forget him. No matter how much I want—"

"Mother!" Rose exclaimed. "I thought you'd accepted it by now."

"The truth hurts, Rose, and it had to come out sometime. I want to be here with you, but I can never like Jack. He was so poor. And you were engaged at the time. You were the one who was unfaithful, and Jack knew that, too."

"It's not his fault," Rose replied, tears stinging her eyes. "I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for Jack. I'd have either drowned out there, or killed myself. You want to know something, Mother? I didn't slip when Jack saved me from the back of Titanic. I was about to jump, and he pulled me back over."

Ruth gasped. "Don't tell such—horrible falsehoods, Rose."

"It's the truth, and the truth hurts, doesn't it, Mother?" Rose asked coldly, storming from the nursery.

XXXXX

"You didn't come into bed until four o'clock," Thomas told Rose at breakfast. "I was getting a little worried. Are you all right?"

"Yes. I just couldn't get back to sleep after Andrew woke us all up last night."

"Oh, was your mother awake, too?" Thomas asked.

"She was the one caring for him when I got to his room. I swear, she is trying to take over, as if I wouldn't be a good enough mother to my own son. I've barely held him since he was born."

"She's just overly protective of her grandson, I'm sure."

Rose shook her head. "Mother wants control over me again. And I refuse."

Ruth entered the kitchen, Andrew cradled in her arms. "Good morning, all."

Rose sighed and jabbed her eggs with her fork. "Good morning, Mother. I see you've awoken Andrew."

"He was already awake. I checked in on him, and there he was, playing in his crib." Ruth smiled.

Rose left the table and went to her mother's side. "I think it's time for me to feed him."

"Oh, I can do it, dear. Sit down and eat. We all know that at the littlest frustrations, you do drastic things."

Rose flopped her arms down to her sides and looked at Ruth angrily. Thomas sat at the table, noticing a storm between the women was brewing. "So, lovely weather, huh?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Mother, you had him all yesterday, all last night, and now you want him all morning as well? Aren't I a good enough parent to my child?"

"Dear, you're never around for the poor child." Ruth smirked.

"I'm never around for him because you always have him!"

"Oh, stop. Just because the first baby didn't survive—uh—call to you last night doesn't mean you always have to watch over him."

"First baby?" Thomas asked.

"Mother was referring to Andrew, of course. Weren't you, Mother?" Rose asked.

"Maybe it's time Thomas knew the truth. About Andrew. About Jacquelyn. About John. And especially about Jack."

"Your brother Jack?" Thomas asked. "What part does he have to play in this? And John?"

"There's nothing to say." Rose grabbed her son from Ruth's arms. "And, Mother, if you ever come into my life only to ruin it again, I'll kill you myself."

"More like you'll kill yourself," Ruth replied. "Go on, Rose. Tell your husband what really happened on the Titanic."

"He doesn't want to know, nor does he care. I wish I had never let you into our home. I wish you'd leave already! Go back to Cal! Er—oh, God." Rose clapped her hand over her mouth, knowing that the mention of Cal's name had already revealed too much of her past to Thomas.

"Cal?" Thomas asked. "As in Caledon Hockley? The man who came to our old house looking for a Miss DeWitt Bukater almost a year ago? That Cal?"

Rose slumped into the chair and began to cry. "Thomas, please, forget everything that you heard. It's nothing, really. Just a big mistake on everyone's part."

"Rose, you don't have to tell me now. But I trust you to tell me in time," Thomas said, clasping her hand in his. "No matter what has happened, I'll always love you."

"So much for not mentioning that bigot of a man named Cal," Ruth jeered. "So, go on. Tell Thomas about Jack, now. And his daughter, and yours."

"What?" Thomas asked, looking at Rose. "We don't have a daughter. And wasn't Jack your brother?"

"No, no, he wasn't, Thomas," Rose replied, tears running down her cheeks. Even though she didn't want her past to emerge, she had to correct what Thomas could interpret as something completely wrong and terrible. "I don't think I can tell you yet. It's still too painful."

"Tell him!" Ruth shouted.

"Get out of my house!" Rose screamed, jumping from the chair and striding over to her mother. "Don't you think you've ruined our family enough? How could I possibly think you cared? You said you'd forgiven me for everything, and would accept what had happened. But no. You came here to tarnish my marriage! Get out!"

"I can't leave, dear. I have nowhere to stay, and I have to pack—"

"Oh, screw packing! I don't care anymore! Just leave this house at once!"

Thomas walked over to them and pushed Rose to the side. "Perhaps I could pay for your lodging in a nice hotel until things settle down. I don't know what has happened, but I don't like to see a mother and daughter fighting."

"I'll go pack, then," Ruth said. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Rose. Maybe next time you have an affair and bear his child, you'll remember this."

Thomas sighed. Could Rose really have done something this big and not told him? Rose stood by him, sniffing and wiping away tears. "Jack saved me, Mother. I'd be dead if I hadn't met him."

"Watch out for her, Thomas," Ruth warned. "You say one little thing, and she'll try to jump off the back of a ship." She walked confidently out of the room, sure she had beaten her daughter at this game.

XXXXX

"Rose, what happened on Titanic? And why did you think you had to lie to me?"

Rose sat in bed, her head in her hands. "Thomas, I don't think you'll ever be able to understand the pain I have gone through. It was too much. Titanic was the most awful experience of my life. And Jack—he was part of making it the most awful experience in my life. Can we just leave it at that for now?"

"I understand your decision, if it hurts you so much to discuss the topic," Thomas said, crawling under the sheets next to her. "But whatever happened between you and Jack, it's in the past. You have me now, and I know you won't do anything to ruin what we feel for each other."

"My mother is just a no-good busy-body, and I always hated her," Rose began. "Please don't hate me for my past sins."

"I could never hate you, Rose. Never," Thomas replied, kissing her. "Now go to sleep. It's been a long day."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Rose picked up Andrew from his crib and cradled him in her arms. "You're getting so big," she said. "And you're only two months old. My, my." She smiled and kissed his chubby cheek.

"There you are," Thomas said, entering the nursery still in his pajamas. "I woke up, and you weren't there. I felt you had gone to off your mother, for sure."

Rose laughed. "No, Thomas. No matter how much I hate her, I won't kill her. She'll suffer more alive, knowing the pain she's caused."

"I don't know why she would bring up your history if you didn't want her to."

"She does everything to spite me," Rose replied. "Including not letting me raise my darling baby myself. I think I'm a good mother."

"I think you are, too," Thomas said. He placed his lips on her cheek and turned to leave. "I'll be downstairs."

"All right," Rose said, placing Andrew on his changing table. "We need to get you in a nice clean diaper and some nice clothes, now."

The baby giggled and reached for Rose's curls. He held them in his hands as she changed his diaper. "So, you like auburn hair, huh, Andrew? Well, that's unfortunate, since you have a full head of your father's hair."

She heard a knock on the door downstairs, and Thomas' footsteps rushed to answer it. Rose finished dressing the baby and walked to the top of the stairway.

"Ruth!" Thomas exclaimed. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't be a bother to us for a while."

"I wanted to see if my daughter has told you anything, yet," Ruth replied, pushing her way into the sitting room. "She's as stubborn as her father, though. Has she told you anything?"

"No, and I don't want her to," Thomas said, folding his arms. Rose tiptoed down the stairs and stood behind Thomas.

"What do you want, Mother? Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

"Not until I get you two divorced," Ruth answered angrily. "Cal Hockley was the perfect man for you. Rich, handsome, debonair. But you gave that all up for—"

"Stop!" Rose yelled. "Thomas, please take Andrew upstairs. I don't want him to hear what I am going to say to my own mother."

Thomas took Andrew from his wife, and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Perhaps we should bring the police into this matter. It could be called stalking."

"That's exactly what she wants, Thomas," Rose told him. "So that she can tell my story to the entire town in the newspapers. No, the police don't have to come."

Thomas took the baby up to the nursery, hoping the fray below wouldn't get that bad. But soon he heard every word in the book being used to describe Ruth and her actions.

"Now, get out!" Rose cried when she finished.

"Fine," Ruth said. "But I'll be back. The police will learn how you abuse your child, how you use every man you come across, and how you've never lived a stable life. They'll commit you."

"Those are all lies, and everyone here knows me. They know for a fact I never abuse my child or go around whoring myself to people."

"And what about John, dear? He thought you loved him, and killed himself. That's a strong enough case right there to have you jailed."

"Get out of my house, and don't come back!" Rose shoved her mother out the door, slamming it behind her. She turned to see Thomas standing at the top of the steps, looking at her.

"John? What was she talking about John for?" he asked. "Is this true?"

"Thomas, it's not what you think." Rose ran to him when he came down the stairs. "Back in New York, he tried to rape me."

"He tried to rape you once, but he thought he loved you?"

"Well, we were sort of living together, but it's not like that. We were just friends, and he offered me a place to stay after Titanic. Please, believe me."

"I do, Rose. I do. Your mother is just trying to separate us is all." He hugged her.

"I'm glad you understand, Thomas. My life is a horrible, horrible mess."

XXXXX

Myrtle held Emily in her arms as she sat on the couch. "So, we all know about your mother."

"You do?" Rose asked. "What do you know?"

"That you chased the poor soul away. All she wanted was to be with you."

"It's more than that," Rose stated. "She was trying to separate Thomas and me. That was truly wrong, and she tried to ruin us all."

"She's an old woman," Myrtle replied. "She just wanted to be close to her only family around. It was wrong of you to chase her away."

"She's hardly away," Rose told her. "She's staying at a nice, expensive hotel until things between us calm down, which I'm sure they never will."

"She's your mother." Rose detected coldness in her friend's voice, a coldness she had never heard before.

"Maybe genetically, she is," Rose retorted. "A mother is a person who nurtures her child, loves them, only wants their happiness. But when a mother tortures their child and lives on the child's unhappiness, that is no mother. She is only a mother by birth. She doesn't love any of us."

"I doubt that," Myrtle said. "Nobody in town thinks it was right of you to send her out. As a matter of fact, there is a council meeting tonight to see what can be done. We all liked Ruth."

"What do you mean by what can be done?"

"Either you let Ruth back, or—well—we haven't decided on the ultimatum yet."

"I can't believe you have all turned against us."

"Even if you do let Ruth back, we might not feel the same way for you as we did. You ran out your own mother! Have you no compassion?"

"I have enough compassion to know when a person does not, and she's one of those without it," Rose replied. "I can't believe you can't see that."

"I have warned you," Myrtle said, standing. "And now I must leave. Think it over, Rose."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Thomas held Rose's hand as they walked back home. Andrew slept in his wife's arms, tired from waking up early and sitting through one of the longest sermons Rose had ever known.

Church had been awful. The entire town seemed against her for chasing out her own mother. Even Myrtle stayed away, gossiping with the rest of society's busybodies about how Rose mistreated her child, which was a lie. Everyone was out to get her in trouble, and Rose was positive her mother had a say in what was happening.

"Don't worry about it," Thomas told her. "This whole thing will let up in a few days. Pretty soon, you and Myrtle will be the best of friends again."

"I doubt it. Mother always had a way of talking to people that made her look pure in their eyes. Little did they know she was Satan incarnate and wants to kill us all."

"Except those who will listen to her," Thomas added. "She wants fair weather friends who agree with everything she says or does."

"And you doubted me at first. You wanted to give her a chance."

"The way she treated you those last days she stayed with us changed my mind about that. How could a mother seemingly so hate her child?"

"I don't know," Rose answered, staring into the face of her baby. "Just looking at our son makes me smile. I could never make my mother smile. She always looked at me so disapprovingly, like I was a pebble in one of her designer shoes she got on retail."

Thomas laughed and squeezed her hand. "It will be all right in the end. Everything turns out all right in the end."

"How?"

"I don't know. It's a mystery," Thomas joked.

XXXXX

It didn't turn out all right. Everywhere they went in town, people snubbed them. It was like they were carrying the bubonic plague, and if you even talked to them, you'd catch it and wither away into nothing.

Thomas started to lose business where he was working. Rumors had accumulated, making it seem as though he abused his child and wife, and that his family did all sorts of strange things.

One rumor had to make him laugh. He told it to Rose over dinner.

"...and that we sacrifice animals on our front lawn," he finished.

Rose sat silently, playing with her food. "I don't think it's anything to joke about, Thomas. It's obvious these people believe these rumors, falsehoods though they may be. I fear we'll never regain the good reputation we once had around here."

"What are you suggesting we do?"

"We have to leave, Thomas. If not for our sake, for Andrew's. Imagine him growing up and hearing all these wild, fanatical stories about his parents. The other children will taunt him and ridicule him to no end. Do you truly want that for our baby?"

"No, I don't," Thomas replied, pondering the possibilities of leaving Cedar Rapids. He looked at Rose, and the baby sitting quietly in her lap. It wouldn't be a good choice for them to remain here, where everyone thought they were strange as it was.

"What are you thinking about, Thomas?" Rose asked.

"About leaving here. My sister, Lora—remember her? I received a letter from her a few months ago saying she just moved to California and wanted us to visit. Maybe we should go and, well, overstay our visit until we find a nice place out west."

"California?" Rose asked. "We're much too simple for California life, Thomas. I don't think—"

"It's only temporary, of course. Until we find somewhere else to go."

"I guess. But I can't imagine leaving our dream house. It's unfortunate our dream house had to be located in the nightmare that is Cedar Rapids."

"The people here are fickle," Thomas stated. "They follow whomever will lead them."

"My mother is doing just that," Rose said. "Herding them like they were cattle. And they enjoy it."

Thomas nodded. "I'll visit a realtor tomorrow, if they'll take me without laughing in my face."

"What?"

"People stare at us now. And they laugh about us. I've noticed it, and apparently, so have you."

"So we're really leaving, then?" Rose asked. "We're not just discussing possibilities here? We're actually going to move away?"

"Yes," Thomas concluded. "Thinking over everything that has happened, it would seem best."

"Thank you, Thomas. Thank you."

XXXXX

"Moving away!" Myrtle screamed, crossing her arms under her bosom and staring angrily at Rose as she packed. "You can't move away! We're just about to have the meeting to make you take your mother back."

"If you love my mother so much, why don't you take her in? Get rid of your perfect family and spend a day in hell."

"Well, fine. Then I suggest you move right now!"

"And I'll suggest where you can move, but only if you like dry heat."

Myrtle fumed. "That's it. I knew you were trouble the day you came here. And what's more, I find out you burn animals in your yard! That's sacrilege!"

"First of all, we don't do anything of the sort. Go out there and see if you can find some burn marks on that grass. Go on. Look out that window."

"Well…I…that's not the point," Myrtle replied. "You could have used a grill."

"And second of all, didn't people always sacrifice animals to God in the Bible? That's anything but sacrilege."

"Don't start turning Christian right now. Trying to save yourself at the last minute."

"I'm not trying to do anything of the sort," Rose replied. "Whether you choose to believe us or not, we're still moving. Mother will never find us, and I pray to God that neither will you."

Myrtle was silent. "You know, before you turned Satanic and started worshipping all sorts of ungodly creatures, you were really nice."

"Isn't it wonderful that I'm still nice, even though I do nothing of what I am accused?"

Myrtle turned on her heel and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Rose sighed and pulled another suitcase to the center of the room. Thomas would be back with the car any minute, and they would start loading things for tomorrow.

Tonight was going to be the last night in this gorgeous house. Andrew would never remember the beautiful sky, the sound of Cedar Rapids crickets in the summer, the way the snow fell in winter, and he would never be subjected to the humiliation Rose and Thomas had received.

XXXXX

"Ready?" Thomas asked as he closed the trunk. Rose nodded, tears ebbing. Andrew cooed in her arms, looking back at his home.

"I'll never be ready, Thomas. In only a year, we made so many memories in this house. I can't imagine starting all over again."

"But we'll do it." Thomas kissed her forehead and helped her into their car. The ride was going to be long, but Rose knew she had a new future ahead of her. Maybe even brighter than the one she had just lived.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Oh, there's Lora now!" Thomas exclaimed as they pulled into the driveway. Lora, Thomas' sister, came running out to meet them. Andrew began to wail as the car stopped.

"Oh, dear." Rose sighed. "He likes the motion of the car so much."

"And there's the baby!" Lora cried when they stepped out. She hurried to Rose, almost tearing Andrew from her arms. "Isn't he adorable? He looks like you, Thomas."

Rose couldn't help but laugh at Lora's overflow of emotions. It was quite funny, the way she grabbed at the child. "He's only a few months old, and hasn't been around many people," Thomas told her.

"Oh, pish-posh. He'll have everyone in the neighborhood swooning over him when he grows up, don't you think? Why, he'll be as handsome as Thomas is."

Rose blushed.

Thomas pulled her closer to him as they followed Lora, who still held the baby, into the house. It was very large, and had a grand foyer. "I already miss our cozy little home," Rose whispered in her husband's ear.

"We'll have another soon enough."

Rose nodded.

"Now, your bedroom is upstairs and the second door on the right. The first door on the right is a nursery for the baby, and there's a door between the rooms connecting them. Why don't you go and freshen up. It's obvious you are all tired from traveling."

"Very," Rose replied. She took Andrew away from Lora and headed toward the stairs.

"Oh, and Rose?" Lora called. "I'd like to talk to you later. It's been so long since we last saw each other. Almost a year."

"Sometimes, a year goes by so quickly," Rose said. "It's hard to believe that last year at this time, I was out on the streets."

"You had just met Thomas then." Lora smiled. This time, Thomas blushed and followed Rose up to their room.

"She always has to embarrass me." Thomas sighed good-heartedly when they placed Andrew in his crib.

"Thomas, she's joking. I find it cute. Sometimes, I wish I had other siblings to nag."

"I've got to find a job in the morning."

"Why don't you start your own law firm, like you wanted to back home—er—in Cedar Rapids? You could still do that."

"I suppose." Thomas pondered the opportunities. "There are so many possibilities out here, Rose. Maybe you will even want to work. We'll need any extra money we can get if we're to get a place of our own."

"But what shall I do about Andrew if I work?" Rose asked, shifting her gaze toward the crib where Andrew lay.

"Lora is here all day," Thomas replied. "The only time she ever leaves the house is at night to work at the hospital. And by then you'll be home, if you only get a day job."

"I wouldn't be comfortable leaving him with—"

"Lora is his aunt, after all." Thomas took Rose's hands in his, and they stood close together. "And it would be wonderful to not have to worry about him all the time, wouldn't it?"

"I imagine so, but I don't want to leave him alone. We may miss his first steps, or he may start calling Lora mommy. I don't want that to happen. Do you?"

"Rose, until I start any kind of work, we need some sort of income," Thomas stated. "And until I can get my own law firm up-and-running, you will have to be the legs we stand on."

Rose sighed. "I fought so hard to keep my baby away from my mother, and now I'll have to give him up again."

"The difference between my sister and your mother is that Lora is humane and you like her." Thomas smiled, and so did Rose.

"I suppose you're right. You know what you're talking about when it comes to work. To think that women like Maddie have to go and sell themselves like that just to make money."

"Did I hear someone mention Maddie?" Lora asked as she passed by the door. "Oh, I suppose I should tell you, since the two of you were friends for some time."

"What is it, Lora?" Rose asked, sitting on the bed.

"Well, after you left, she came into the shelter, big as a house in a family way. She gave birth prematurely. She and the baby died."

Rose's eyes filled with tears. Just like Jacquelyn had died, and how Rose could have ended up if it weren't for Thomas and his caring sister. She wanted to break down and cry, not only for Maddie, but for the way she could have been.

"Rose, are you all right?" Thomas asked, placing an arm around her and holding his wife close.

"I thought you should know since you were discussing the subject. I know I was intruding a bit, perhaps, on your conversation, but it is important."

"You were right to tell me." Rose caught a fugitive tear flowing down her cheek. "After all, I could have ended up the same way."

"Don't say that." Thomas held her closer. "I don't know what I'd do without you. If you weren't here, we'd have no son; I'd have no life."

"Yes, you would, Thomas. You're so handsome. You'd have found another girl."

"Not true," Thomas told her. "I thought I was done with love until I found you. And I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Thomas." Rose smiled and kissed him.

"Now that's what I like to see," Lora said. "You are so in love with each other, it makes me want to go on and cry. Oh, look, Andrew is awake. Can I take him?"

Rose was about to say no, but Thomas' eyes pleaded with her own to say yes. "All right. Be careful, though. He can be fussy, especially after such a long day."

"I'll take him for a walk around the block."

When she had left with the baby, Thomas stretched across the bed and reached for Rose, who snuggled up next to him. "It's been a while since we've been alone together."

"I know, Thomas. Maybe being here with Lora is a very good thing after all."

XXXXX

"Oh, Rose!" Lora cried the next morning as Rose came down the stairs. Lora and another woman were sitting in the parlor, obviously one of Lora's friends. "Come in and meet Sylvia."

"How do you do?" the woman asked. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, with long blonde hair flowing down her back in waves. Her eyelashes were long and black, and her lips the perfect shade of red.

"Sylvia is an actress out here," Lora stated happily. "We've been friends since I came, and she was injured on the set of one of those moving pictures."

"I was rushed to the hospital and met Lora," Sylvia finished. "She's so very nice, except she was taken at the fact I changed my name to Sylvia. She couldn't get over it."

"Many actresses change their names here in California," Lora said.

"Why?" Rose asked.

"My original name was Matilda," Sylvia replied. "And you have to have original, more popular names to become anything in Hollywood."

"So I see. But I would never change my name."

"Your last name is Calvert?" Sylvia asked, and Rose nodded. "You would be forced to change your name. No offense, but Calvert isn't the type of name Hollywood producers go for."

"I'm not exactly aching to become an actress," Rose retorted, angry at this woman's arrogance and ignorance. "I could never live a life like that."

"It's wonderful, I assure you. You make so much money, you have it coming out of your ears. And if you can act, that's a big bonus, too."

Lora laughed. "I was going to try to become an actress, but I look nothing of a pretty thing like Sylvia. I'm much too horsy."

"Oh, no, you're not," Rose said when Sylvia didn't say otherwise. Rose took it to believe that Sylvia was narcissistic and egotistical, among other things. "You're very pretty, Lora. Don't ever say otherwise."

"Perhaps," Lora said meekly.

"Rose, dear, if only your hair wasn't red." Sylvia let out a melodramatic sigh, and it was all Rose could do to keep from laughing hysterically. "You'd be so pretty."

"My hair isn't red. It's auburn. And I look fine with it, much better than your blonde hair."

"Darling, I have professionals work with my hair," Sylvia said, as though it were the best thing in the world. "It's obvious you're only a plain housewife by the way your hair is."

_How can Lora not see through this woman? _Rose asked herself.

"Now, Sylvia, Rose has a baby boy she takes care of."

"Yes, not all of us have the time to pamper ourselves every minute of our lives," Rose said harshly.

"I'd better be going," Sylvia said. "It's all I can take in this hostile environment. Everything was fine until Rose had to start picking a fight with me."

Rose watched Lora walk Sylvia to the door. She heard something Sylvia whispered, as though Rose didn't exist. "Why did you invite them to stay? It was so peaceful without that temperamental redhead you call a sister-in-law."

"Don't mind Sylvia," Lora said as she walked back. "She's a head case."

"Really? I couldn't tell," Rose stated sarcastically.

"She believes I'm her friend. She also believes she's an actress. Last year, Sylvia auditioned for a part, and when she was turned down, she basically went insane. So now she lives the life a movie star would, except she's nothing but your normal everyday Jane."

"So how did you two meet?"

"Oh, she really did injure herself on the set—when she went on a rampage. Sylvia was so angry at the world she went in and electrocuted herself on some wires. She's a smart one, all right."

Rose laughed. "Well, I guess while we all have our own little idiosyncrasies. She has more than anyone else can bear."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Rose felt the warmth of Thomas' hand on hers as she woke up. The pounding of rain against the roof was the second entity she noticed. The sun was covered by thunderous clouds, and sheets of lightning were the only lights that filled the room. Indeed, it was going to be a caliginous morning.

"Is Andrew awake?" Rose asked, squeezing Thomas' hand while pulling the covers of the bed closer to her chin. "The thunder is earsplitting."

"He's sleeping like a log." Thomas chuckled. "Amazingly so. That child will awaken to the quietest whisper, but will slumber through a thunderstorm."

Rose smiled and held Thomas' hand closer to her. He didn't have to go to work at the law firm this morning, and Rose was glad. Thomas had gotten a job at one of the smaller companies, and already he had been hired as a lawyer for a case. Rose was proud of him, but wished she could do something to help their financial situation.

An unbearably loud shot of thunder reverberated through the house, and a strong cry could be heard in the adjacent room. "It seems we spoke too soon." Rose laughed, reaching for her robe next to the bed.

"You stay here." Thomas stopped her. "I'll get Andrew. After all, you have been the one caring for him all week."

"Thank you, Thomas," Rose said, leaning back into the downy pillows she had piled up behind her. It wasn't the type of morning where you wanted to wake up and actually do something beneficial. Like work.

Thomas returned with the baby, chubby and crying. Rose took him in her arms, wiping the tears from his plump little cheeks. "It's okay, sweetie. Thunder won't hurt you. Thomas, this is his first real storm."

"We never had storms like this in Cedar Rapids." Thomas nodded his head in agreement. "And it came on so fast. When I woke up, it was bright and sunny. And that was only moments before you awoke."

"It's so different here. I don't know if that's good or bad."

"At least people here don't believe we sacrifice animals or worship the dead souls of our ancestors," Thomas told her, attempting not to laugh, but failing. "Your mother certainly caused us enough trouble out there."

"I'm positive she doesn't think she caused us enough," Rose replied, bouncing Andrew on her knee. He began to smile and giggle, cute dimples forming by his mouth. "I'm just glad she won't be around to raise Andrew. He'd be scarred for life."

"There are many things that happened in your life, aren't there, Rose?" Thomas asked seriously. "Things you have yet to recount to me."

"It is too painful, Thomas. My mother is a great cause of the hurt, and so are other people whom I loved very deeply. I just don't think I'm ready to relay every point of my life to you, being as agonizing as they are."

"Will you ever tell me?"

Rose was silent for a moment, pondering what he was asking. Did he want her to tell him now? Was he beginning to become curious as to why Rose was so secretive? "I need more time, Thomas. Lots more time. Perhaps an eternity."

"Are you hiding something from me? Something that could possibly hurt us?"

"I'm just afraid that the things that are opprobrious to me now might start hurting you, as well. And I certainly don't want that to happen. I want our marriage to be blissfully happy, and it couldn't be with Mother around. I wish I could make you understand, Thomas. I truly do."

XXXXX

Lora brushed through the brown curls on Andrew's head, making them shine in silken waves. She and Rose sat in the foyer, relaxing after a long, tempestuous day. Thomas had been called into work to do some last-minute errands on his current case, and the thunderstorm outside had begun to ease up. The moon cast argentine light onto the ground beneath it, and Rose was taken aback at the beauty outside the window.

"Did you have any more encounters with Mr. Hockley or your mother?" Lora asked quietly, interrupting Rose's train of thought.

"My mother discovered our home in Cedar Rapids," Rose replied after a few seconds. "She tried to let everything out. I wouldn't permit it, and sent her away. The reason we are here is because she turned the entire town against us."

"Mr. Hockley is married. Did you know?" Lora asked. Rose shook her head. "Some girl named Anne Dumas."

"Anne? I've known her since were but children! She detested Cal! Why on earth would she marry that rogue?"

"Money, perhaps." Lora nodded, thinking to herself. "That must be it. Do you still have the necklace?"

"It is locked away in my jewelry box," Rose answered, redirecting her attention to the world on the opposite side of the window. "Thomas doesn't yet know about it."

"Have you revealed anything to him?"

"Lora, there is much more to the story than just Cal and my mother; things I have not yet even told you. My life, my world is a secret to anyone who hasn't lived it with me. If it had been a better life, I would have disclosed everything to everyone. But it wasn't a nice life I led."

"I'm sorry, Rose. It's unfortunate you have to keep your entire past hidden from everyone who loves you."

"Almost everyone who loves me is dead," Rose replied. "Now, all I have are you, Thomas, and Andrew." She looked up into the midnight sky and watched the stars glisten. Jack came to mind, and tears clouded her eyes. "It seems like only yesterday my life was on a downward course."

"Your life is wonderful now. Look at everything you have. You should be forever grateful."

"I'm happy I found love in the right place when I met Thomas. He, too, saved me."

"He, too?" Lora asked. "Who else saved you?"

Rose again looked up at the twinkling stars. "An angel."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"You do look wonderful with that child on your arm." Lora smiled warmly at Rose as she traipsed through the kitchen. "To think, my brother has a wife and child. It's unimaginable."

Rose spoon-fed Andrew some applesauce, and he ate it happily. "It's not so unimaginable. Thomas is wonderful, and he loves Andrew more than anything. I just wish that his work would permit him to be home with his family more. But his latest case is a tough one; so he says, anyway."

"I am so glad he ended up marrying you in the end," Lora told her. "That first girl was horrible, but he wouldn't listen to anyone. The more we told him no, the less he would listen to us. But he's so in love with you, Rose. I swear upon the Bible that Melissa was just out of spite."

"Melissa? Was that her name?" Rose asked innocently. Thomas had brought up the subject of this girl once before, but didn't really want to delve deeper into the subject, much like Rose didn't want to reveal her past in its entirety.

"Yes. But I'm sure you don't want to know anything about her. She was such a horrid woman, anyway. You could look straight up her nose, she held it so high." Lora laughed. "And it was a big one, too."

Rose smiled. Lora was known to always see the best in people. It made her think, what could Melissa have done to give Lora such a dreary outlook on Thomas' relationship with her? "Has Thomas seen her since?"

"Since they stopped courting? I don't think so. And anyhow, she married some millionaire and moved to Canada somewhere. They haven't been in touch. And if they have been, I give you all my permission to smack him senseless. She is a witch."

"And what wonderful things did she do to earn that title?" Rose joked, holding Andrew on her knee. He giggled, a speck of white showing in his gums...his first tooth.

Lora sat at the table next to Rose, eager, it seemed, to tell the story. "She used Thomas. Took a little money, here and there. She might have been rich, but that didn't mean anything to her. Melissa dwelled on the fact that Thomas was doting on her, buying everything she needed. But he was never sure as to whether or not they should marry. Being my brother, he confided in me with everything, and asked my opinion. I told him the truth—that Melissa was an evil, conniving, little she-witch, and no, he should not marry her."

"What did he say to that, I wonder?" Rose grinned.

"He proposed to her, of course," Lora replied, and Rose frowned, bemused. "He eventually called it off, after I told him he could certainly do better. And he did, my dear. He found you. And I'm glad Thomas wasn't bull-headed enough to marry that girl out of spite for his family."

"I'm glad, too," Rose replied. "I love him to death, Lora. It's just that...well...he isn't home much anymore. Andrew needs him. I need him. I wonder if I'm fulfilling my duties as a wife well enough."

"And what duties would those be?" Lora asked with an evil grin. Rose blushed. "Oh, don't worry, Rose. He loves you and Andrew. He's just extremely busy with his work, and adjusting to California. And with fall setting in, don't be surprised when frost doesn't cover the ground and leaves don't blanket the lawn for a while."

"I'm going to miss the snow," Rose said. "On the other hand, after about a month, it got me depressed. Everything was dead and ugly, and there wasn't any color, either. Fall was my favorite, with the color. I can't stand the double colors of gray and white after the new year."

"It does get awful," Lora admitted. "In a way, I'm glad I'm in California. And you'll adjust to it in practically no time whatsoever."

"I hope so. That rain the other day certainly struck me dumb. It came on so quickly."

"Well, it's just another chapter in your life. You have to make it count, whether it rains, snows, or the sun shines all day."

"That's what Jack would have said," Rose replied without thinking. Then she realized what she had just said, and looked up at Lora, who was confused.

"You've mentioned this Jack person before," Lora told her. "And then you always change the subject."

"I really must get Andrew down for his nap. It is noon," Rose said, rising from the chair and clattering Andrew's spoon and dish into the sink. "I'll clean these later."

"No, you won't, Rose. Why won't you talk about this Jack person? Or is it another part of your mysterious past you won't tell anyone about?"

"It's nothing, really."

"When you came to the shelter, delirious with hunger, you couldn't stop calling his name. He obviously meant something to you. Like I said before, Thomas always confides in me, and he is getting angrier by the day that you aren't telling him something. He thinks you've got a secret lover locked up somewhere."

"Jack is dead!" Rose shouted, before she could stop herself. "All right? Is that what you wanted to know? Jack is dead! Jack is dead!"

Rose's eyes filled with tears as she fled from the kitchen, Andrew nestled cozily in her arms. She ran to the bedroom she shared with Thomas, placing Andrew in the crib. "You don't mind, do you, Andrew?" she asked, tucking him in. "You didn't know Jack, and even though I love your father very much, that won't change the feelings I once had for Jack, and your sister, Jacquelyn."

Her eyes sparkling with tears, Rose threw herself on the bed, crying into the pillow. "Jack is dead!" she kept saying to herself. "Get a hold of yourself, Rose. He's dead! Dead, dead, dead!"

XXXXX

"Rose, are you all right?" Thomas sat beside her on the bed, tossing his briefcase onto a chair. "I got home, and Lora said you've been in our room for hours, and haven't emerged since you went, as she said, insane."

"I guess I got a little overly passionate about the topic we were discussing."

"She said you were talking about your past. She should have known what a sensitive subject that is for you. You don't even bring it up with me."

"Maybe you should know, though, Thomas," Rose told him, leaning against him. "It might be better for you. And I wouldn't blame you if you left me afterwards."

"You don't have to tell me, Rose. Honestly, you don't—"

"It's about Jack," Rose interrupted, pulling away from him and pacing the room. "I know you've heard me speak his name before, and I know what must be running through your mind."

"You said he was a close friend."

"Was, yes. Close friend...we were more than that, Thomas. Years ago, I was wealthy, spoiled, and superficial. I was engaged to a man..."

"Jack..." Thomas chimed in.

"Well, no," Rose replied, knowing this was going to be more complicated than she first thought. "Cal Hockley, actually."

"Do you mean Caledon Hockley? The richest man in Philadelphia?"

"Um…well…yes, I do," Rose answered, wringing her hands. "But I didn't love him. We were on Titanic, on our way to Philadelphia to marry."

"Yes. Go on."

"On the ship, I met this man..."

"Jack..."

"Yes, Jack. We fell in love, but, he was poor, and Mother didn't exactly like him. Well, he died when the ship sank, and a few months later, I bore him a child, who died."

Rose looked deeply into Thomas' eyes, which seemed to be filled with no emotion at all. He was stone-faced, but looked almost hurt. She immediately regretted telling him, and waited patiently for an answer.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"Well…" Rose shifted from one foot to the other. "Aren't you going to say anything? I'd hate to think I've hurt you so much it made you speechless."

"Not speechless," Thomas replied. "I don't know what to say. It's obvious you suffered a terrible loss."

"The thing is, Thomas...that's not the half of it..."

"Do you mean to tell me there's more?" Thomas asked, surprised.

"John Wilkes," Rose began. "I met him after Titanic sank. Oh, don't give me that look as if we were lovers. We weren't. But he thought we should be. He...he tried to...to..."

And as she began to cry at the memories flooding back. Suddenly, she felt Thomas' strong arms wrap around her. He didn't hate her? What was all this about? Surely, he hated her for what she had done. Thomas couldn't possibly still love her. Could he?

"You don't have to say anything, Rose," Thomas told her, kissing her forehead gently. "Don't you understand? I still love you, more than anything. And now that it's all out, you don't have to be so secretive about your past. Lora was quite worried about you, and..."

"She told me you thought I had a secret lover hidden somewhere."

"I got somewhat suspicious," Thomas answered, looking into her eyes. "But I still trusted you not to love another man. I know I haven't been home very often, and I've been trying, Rose. Truly, I am trying."

"I know you are, sweetheart," Rose said, a small smile forming on her lips. "I know you still love Andrew more than anything. As a matter of fact, if you threatened to divorce me because of my past, I was going to use our son to bind me to you. I know how much you care for us."

"Then why did you think I would leave you?" Thomas asked. "You are sometimes so pessimistic, but given your past, I can now understand where you're coming from. And I have all the more reason to dislike your mother, although it does explain the Jack incident she hinted about back in Cedar Rapids."

"I have wanted to tell you for so long, now," Rose stated. "And the words have been on the tip of my tongue so many times. But every time seemed too soon. Now, it seemed right. I just wish I hadn't caused such a scene about it downstairs. Lora must have been dumbfounded when I up and left in tears."

"And dumbfounded she was." Thomas laughed. "I walked in from work tonight, and there she was on the couch, head in hand, trying to think of what had upset you. If you would like, we don't have to tell her anything about what just happened."

"She knows some of it," Rose said shyly, knowing Thomas would wonder why she hadn't told him herself. "Not quite so much about Jack, though. She knows about the Heart of the Ocean, and..."

"The what?" Thomas exclaimed, breaking away from her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "She knows about the what?"

"Cal gave it to me on Titanic," Rose said slowly, walking toward her jewelry box and turning the key. "Why?"

"Do you know how expensive that thing is?"

"Well, yes, I do. Cal is a very wealthy man, and he tried to buy my love. Would you like to see it?" Rose held up the jewelry box, wondering why Thomas was acting so eager. He was like a child on Christmas.

"I can't believe I married a millionaire who I thought was a homeless girl when I first met her!"

Rose laughed and reached into the wooden box where she kept all her treasures, wondering when the last time was that she had looked at the priceless diamond. It must have been months, at the least. Once extracted from the pocket, Thomas grabbed it, in awe at its size and beauty. "Why have you kept it?"

"What?"

"Why haven't you pawned it somewhere? Think of the money you could receive from the sale!"

Rose, hurt by his comment, snatched it from his hands and looked into its deep blue, seeing Jack's face in her reflection. "This necklace is very dear to my heart. Cal may have given it to me, but it holds purpose and logic somehow. It is all I have to remember of..."

"...of Jack?" Thomas finished with a sigh.

"Yes. Of Jack. And of all the love lost on Titanic. Just so I don't go off with my nose in the air, looking down at everyone I see. That night, everyone was on the same boat...literally."

"Well, now," Thomas said, pulling Rose next to him on the bed. "You know that I love you. But the question here is, what with Jack and all, do you still love me?"

Rose sighed deeply, fingering the necklace, memorizing its shape as she had done many times before. "I knew this would happen; that you would question whether or not I still had feelings for Jack, stronger than the ones I have for you. The truth is, Thomas, that I still love Jack. Nothing will ever change that, not even a wonderful marriage to you. But now, you are the man I love dearly. More than anything at this moment."

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do, silly." Rose laughed. "I have no reason to lie about anything anymore. And I'm quite glad I've shared everything with you. For the longest time I've thought of nothing but what you might do when I told you about my life and what a train wreck it has been."

Thomas walked over to Andrew's crib, pulling the infant out and holding him in his arms. "Do you see what your life has produced?" Thomas asked with a smile, the baby gurgling. "Aren't you glad you are around to have seen the birth of our son?"

"Oh, yes, I am grateful for that," Rose replied, taking Andrew from her husband and placing him into her lap, noticing he was looking more and more like Thomas with each passing day. "And for God allowing me to love again. After Titanic, I never thought I would meet anyone, or go anywhere, and love someone as much as I love my family."

A knock on the door shook Rose from her reverie, and Thomas opened it. Lora stood outside, a worried look on her tear-stained face. She burst into the room, hugging Rose. "I thought I had done something terrible to you to make you run from me so! And I did, I did! Oh, you poor child, what with Jack, his baby, and John Wilkes, and oh...how horrible it must have been for you."

"You know, Lora," Thomas interrupted, an annoyed look on his face. "You really must cease listening in through the door. This is, what, the fifth time this has happened?"

"I had good intentions," Lora defended herself. "I wanted to make sure Rose didn't hold a grudge against me for whatever reason. And I hope she doesn't...do you?" She directed the question at Rose, still playing with her son on the bed.

"I couldn't possibly hold a grudge against you, Lora," Rose replied. "How could have known what had happened to me throughout my life? And you are such a wonderful friend that I'd hate to lose you."

"Not the most wonderful sister," Thomas stated sarcastically, shooting angry glances at Lora from across the room.

"As if you have been the greatest brother all your life, Thomas," Lora joked. "Now, anyway, you two. If you want any dinner at all tonight, I suggest you come downstairs while what's left of the shepherd's pie is hot."

"What do you mean by—what's left?" Rose asked.

"Well, with all the distractions today, I somewhat—kind of—burnt the entire thing."

"I think that perhaps we'll skip dinner tonight." Thomas winked at Rose, who smiled back.

"As if I don't know what you're up to." Lora smirked. "How about I take Andrew downstairs with me, then? Maybe he would like something to eat, even if neither of you do."

"That's a capital idea," Thomas said, Rose placing Andrew in Lora's arms. "Well, off you go, now. Good-bye."

"But, Thomas, what does—" Lora was asking. But Thomas had already closed the door behind her. He sat next to Rose on the bed and kissed her.

"What's that for?" Rose asked, blushing for some reason, but she didn't know why. After all, she had been married to this man for almost a year; so shouldn't she know him by now? Yet, there was something about him that made her weak in the knees whenever he was around, and she couldn't believe he was her husband. And to think she had almost refused him.

"For being you," Thomas replied, kissing her again. As they collapsed onto the bed together, Rose couldn't help thinking about how wonderful Thomas was...and yet wondered what her life might have been life with Jack and their daughter.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_Two Months Later_

Rose sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office, thinking about that day two months earlier. She had half-expected Thomas to be angry, to refuse to forgive her for her past, or for keeping it a secret. But, while he had been angry for a while, he had understood, and had forgiven her for keeping secrets from him. He had also given up the idea of selling the Heart of the Ocean, acknowledging that it was Rose's, to keep or sell as she saw fit.

That night, after Lora had taken Andrew to the kitchen to eat, Rose and Thomas had made love, renewing their love and trust in one another. Rose had sensed that night that they had created a new life, and as the weeks passed, she became more and more certain of it.

"Mrs. Calvert?"

Rose looked up, seeing the doctor gesturing to her. Standing, she made her way to the door of the examining room, going inside and sitting down on the examining table.

"What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Calvert?"

"I think I may be in the family way," Rose told her, blushing a little. She'd had two babies before, but acknowledging that she thought she was pregnant had always been a little embarrassing for her.

"Well, let's examine you and see. I'll also have a few questions for you."

"Of course." Rose lay back, letting the doctor complete his examination and answering his questions.

When the doctor was finished, Rose sat up, pulling her skirt down over her legs. "What's the diagnosis?" she asked, looking at him, half-hopeful and half-fearful. What if she was wrong?

"Mrs. Calvert, you are most definitely pregnant," the doctor told her, washing his hands and writing something on a piece of paper. "Here are some instructions for you."

Rose smiled, pleased that she had been right, that there was another baby on the way. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Calvert. I will need to see you back here in about a month. You can make the appointment with my nurse."

Rose nodded, a wave of excitement going through her. She couldn't wait to tell Thomas.

XXXXX

As Rose had hoped, Thomas was overjoyed to know that she was having another baby. He coddled her, trying to get her to rest, while he did her work for her, amusing Rose no end. Finally, Lora pointed out that it was better if Rose did her own work and got enough exercise—too much rest was unnecessary and even harmful for a woman going through a normal pregnancy.

That night, Rose lay contentedly in Thomas's arms after making love. He had been especially careful and gentle with her, knowing that she was pregnant, and Rose counted herself lucky to have found such a loving, caring man.

She snuggled closer against him as she fell asleep, relishing his warm, loving presence.

XXXXX

"_Rose."_

_Rose turned, her eyes widening in astonishment. "Jack! What are you doing here?" She looked around, surprised to find that she was in her suite aboard the RMS Titanic._

"_I thought it was time for a visit." Jack lounged against the wall, his portfolio in his hand. "Anyway, I have something to tell you."_

"_What is it?"_

"_Have a seat."_

_As Rose sank down onto the couch, Jack sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. She laughed softly, delighted._

_After they kissed for a couple of minutes, Rose pulled back, looking him in the eyes. "What was it you had to tell me?"_

"_It's about the baby." He gestured to her abdomen._

"_What about it? It's all right, isn't it?"_

_Jack laughed softly. "More than all right. In fact, 'it' doesn't describe the baby at all. It's more like 'they'."_

"_They?" Rose's eyes widened. "Oh, Jack…you mean…"_

"_You're having twins, Rose. A boy and a girl."_

_Rose's hands flew to her stomach. "Twins!"_

"_Yes. And our daughter's spirit is in the girl. She was too young to come here—but she's going to have another chance, being born to you and Thomas."_

_Rose looked up at him, stunned. "Jacquelyn is going to be born to me again?"_

"_Yes."_

"_But…but, how?"_

"_I don't know. That's up to God. But I do know that it's true."_

"_Jacquelyn…I'll have a second chance to raise her, and love her, and watch her grow up…oh, Jack, this is the most wonderful gift I have ever been given. Thank you!"_

"_Thank God, Rose, not me."_

"_Oh, I will…but you told me about it. You let me know that this is happening." She threw her arms around him, kissing him soundly._

_When they parted, Jack moved away from her a little. "It's time for you to go back, Rose."_

"_Jack, no. Not yet."_

"_It's almost morning. Your husband will be worried if you don't wake up."_

_Rose nodded sadly, acknowledging that he was right. "I'll miss you, Jack."_

"_I'll miss you, too, Rose, but always remember that I'm watching over you."_

"_I know." Rose hugged him. Then she frowned. "I thought I wasn't supposed to see you until the time was right."_

_He laughed softly, a little sheepishly. "Well, this came up, and it kind of seemed necessary."_

"_You're right. It was." Rose kissed him one more time. "Will I see you again anytime soon?"_

"_I don't know, Rose. But if we don't meet again soon, remember that I'll be waiting for you at that clock when the time is right."_

_Rose's eyes softened. "I know. I love you, Jack."_

"_And I love you, Rose."_

XXXXX

Rose opened her eyes to the early morning light. Thomas was standing beside her, watching her with amusement.

"You must have been having a happy dream, sleepyhead," he commented. "You've been smiling so widely…"

Suddenly full of energy, Rose leaped out of bed and pulled on her robe. Throwing her arms around Thomas, she told him, "Yes. It was wonderful." She grinned unable to keep her secret. Putting Thomas's hand on her middle, she whispered, "We're having twins."

"Twins? How do you know?"

Rose smiled, knowing that she couldn't tell him about her conversation with Jack, but wanting to tell him anyway. "The doctor said so. And, Thomas, I have it on good authority that it will be a boy and a girl."

He laughed. "Good authority, hmm? That was quite a dream. And do you have names for them, too?"

Rose stopped. She wanted to name the girl after her first baby, but knew that it wouldn't be right. "For the boy, I do."

"And what is that?"

"Jack Taylor Calvert."

He frowned slightly. "Jack?"

"In honor of my first baby, Thomas, nothing more. I leave the name of the girl to you."

"Well, then, if you're honoring your firstborn, they'll both hold her name. The girl—if there is one—will be Lora Jacquelyn Calvert."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

_September, 1914_

Rose lay on the examining table, her face set in a grimace as the nurse-midwife examined her. Obstetrical examinations weren't her favorite thing, but they were necessary to be sure that she and her babies were healthy.

The nurse-midwife pulled the sheet back down over Rose's legs and let her sit up. "So far, so good," she told Rose, writing something on a sheet of paper. "You and your baby are both fine."

Rose smiled. She knew that she was carrying twins, but hadn't informed the doctor or the nurse-midwife of that fact. She doubted that they'd believe her. After all, it was very difficult to tell if a woman was carrying more than one baby unless her stomach was unusually large or the babies could be felt in the womb, and at only three months along, she wasn't showing yet and the developing babies felt like nothing more than a mass inside her when she was examined.

"How have you been feeling?" the nurse-midwife asked. "Any severe morning sickness, other loss of appetite, or swelling ankles?"

"I've had some morning sickness," Rose told her, "but it's been getting better. And my ankles do swell a little, but not too much. I can still wear my shoes comfortably, anyway. And I think I've gained some weight, because my clothes are a little tighter."

"Yes," the nurse-midwife confirmed. "You've gained about five pounds, but there's nothing unusual about that. Did you experience the same symptoms with your first baby?"

Rose nodded. "Yes." She didn't mention that Andrew hadn't been her first baby, or that she had been terribly sick during her first pregnancy and had finally lost the baby. As long as everything was going well, she saw no reason to mention Jacquelyn.

"Well, Rose, just continue following the instructions you were given, and I will see you next month." The nurse-midwife handed her the sheet of paper. "You can make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out."

Rose nodded, taking the paper and sliding from the table. As she put her clothes back on, she smiled to herself. Everything was going well this time.

XXXXX

Rose was sitting in the kitchen, feeding Andrew, when Thomas came in. He gave her a kiss, sitting down next to her and setting his briefcase and newspaper on the table. Andrew squealed in delight, reaching for his father with grubby fists.

"How was work?" Rose asked, kissing Thomas back.

He smiled. "It was great. In fact, it was better than great. You know how my boss was elected district attorney after the last district attorney resigned?"

Rose nodded. "Yes."

"Well, he wants me to work with him at the county office. It'll require more driving, but there'll be a good-sized pay raise and a lot of interesting cases to work on."

"Thomas, that's great!" Rose threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly. Andrew, not really understanding what was going on, but knowing that his parents were excited about something, squealed again, banging a spoon on his high chair.

"Now we'll be able to get a place of our own sooner," Thomas continued. "I know that Lora doesn't mind our being here, but I don't like to impose, especially with two more babies on the way."

"So you finally believe that we're having twins?"

"I never really doubted it—but it did seem a little far-fetched that the doctor could know so soon."

"Well, that's why you're a lawyer, rather than a doctor." Rose turned back to feeding her hungry son. "Oh, Thomas, I went to see the nurse-midwife today."

"And?"

"And she says we're doing fine. The babies and I are just fine. I thought we were—after all, things are even easier this time than they were with Andrew…but it's nice to be sure."

Thomas kissed her cheek. "You'll be fine, Rose, both you and the babies. I know you had a hard time the first time, but you're much better off now, much healthier. Andrew will have some beautiful younger siblings."

Rose lifted Andrew from the high chair and carried him to the sink, washing his little face and hands before gently setting him down on the floor. He immediately crawled over to his father and gripped his leg, pulling himself up and grinning.

Thomas picked him up and set him in his lap. "You're getting stronger every day, Andrew. Next thing you know, you'll be running all over the place." He bounced the baby on his knee, drawing a contented giggle from him.

Lora came into the kitchen, carrying two bags of groceries. Andrew screeched in delight and reached for her, struggling to get out of his father's arms and into his aunt's. Lora took him, leaving Rose and Thomas to put away the groceries.

"Aren't you cute?" she cooed, bouncing him gently. "You're getting to be such a big boy."

"You're spoiling him, Lora," Thomas told her, but he didn't look unhappy.

"Oh, now, Thomas, you can't spoil a baby. He's too little to be spoiled."

She set him down, watching as he clung to both her and her brother and took a tentative step before falling on his bottom. Undeterred, Andrew pulled himself up again. He hadn't yet taken his first independent step, but he would soon.

"Oh, Rose, you got two phone calls while you were away, one from the movie studio and one from your mother." Lora picked the baby up again, handing him to his mother.

Rose paled a little a the thought of her mother calling her. What did she want now? Was she trying to ruin her life again? She gave no other indication of her distress, though, and calmly asked, "What did the movie studio want?"

"Didn't you audition last week?"

"Well…yes, but I didn't think anything would come of it."

"Well, something did. They want you for a small role in a new picture they're making. The title was…let me think…_Save The Last Dance_. I'm not sure of the other details, but the director wants you to call him back." She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. "Here's his phone number."

"Thanks." Rose took it, excitement growing inside her. Her first film role! Even if it was small, she was going to be a moving picture actress, just like she'd dreamed.

Then her face fell. If only her mother didn't ruin this for her. Looking up, she asked, "Lora…what did my mother want?"

"I took a message. She thanks you for the money to keep her in the hotel, but she wants to leave and come out to California now. She says that she's sorry for what happened in Cedar Rapids, and she'd like to start over."

Rose shook her head. "That's what she said the last time, and she almost ruined our lives. We had to move here and start over."

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, but she had no right. Cedar Rapids was our home, and she ruined our standing in that town. I was happy there, but she just couldn't leave me alone."

"Maybe she really has changed this time," Lora suggested. "Maybe you could call her and talk to her."

"No." Rose was adamant. "I don't want anything to do with her. We'll send her money, but that's the only contact she's going to have with this family. She almost destroyed us once; I'm not going to let her do it again."

XXXXX

That night, Rose lay in bed beside Thomas, sharing the newspaper with him. A headline caught her eye, and she frowned.

"Thomas, do you ever worry about that war over in Europe?"

He set the newspaper down, shrugging. "A little. I don't think we'll get involved in it, but you never know. A lot of money is at stake."

"I hope we don't." She moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't want you to have to go over there."

"I won't. I have too much here to want to go to war."

"What if the United States joined in the war, and reinstated the draft?"

"Why would they do that? There hasn't been a draft in this country since the Civil War."

"Yes, and it was a disaster." She looked up at him. "I know my history, Thomas, but I also know that the people in charge often don't. I don't trust President Wilson, no matter what he says about us staying out. He's much too influenced by businessmen, and I know that some of them want this country to join the war so that they can profit from it."

"He insists that he's going to keep us out of it."

"Well, let's hope that he's telling the truth, and if he isn't, let's hope that there is no draft. I don't want to lose you."

"Now, Rose, plenty of men who go to war come back."

"And plenty don't. Promise me that you won't get involved if you don't have to?"

"At this point, it's a moot question. We're not involved, and probably won't be. But if, by some chance, we do become involved, I promise that I won't sign up. Happy?"

"I guess. It's just…I've seen so much disaster in my life that I can't help but be afraid that more will come down on us. I mean, no one thinks we could go to war, but no one thought that the Titanic could sink. And we know how that ended."

"Yes, but that was an act of nature. War is an act of mankind."

"Even worse."

"Ah…Rose." Thomas put his arms around her. "Don't borrow trouble, as my mother used to say. We have enough to worry about each day without worrying about tomorrow's trouble, too. We'll be all right. I'm sure of it."

XXXXX

_Rose opened her eyes to see Jack standing at the end of the pier, his back to her. Slowly, she approached him, wondering what he needed to tell her this time._

"_Hello, Jack."_

_He turned around, smiling when he saw her. "Rose."_

"_What's going on this time?"_

"_Another visit. Isn't it obvious?"_

"_Yes, but you said a while back that we wouldn't meet again until the time was right, and yet we seem to keep seeing each other. And I don't know about you, but I don't think I'm ready for heaven yet."_

"_No, not yet," Jack admitted. "You've still got a few decades to go before you come here to stay."_

"_What did you need to tell me? It's not that I don't want to see you, but I've finally figured out that when we meet like this, something's going on."_

"_You're right, Rose. Something is going on. It's about your mother."_

_Rose sank down onto a bench, burying her face in her hands. "I knew it. She's coming to ruin my life again, isn't she?"_

_Jack sat next to her, putting a comforting arm around her. "She wants to see you, yes, but she isn't going to ruin your life this time. Her scheme backfired on her…someone found out that she'd lied, and now the people of Cedar Rapids are on your side again, and are ostracizing her. She knows that what she did was wrong, and she wants to make amends."_

"_How can I trust her, Jack, after what she did? How do I know that she won't change her mind and try to split apart Thomas' and my marriage, so that I can marry Cal?"_

_Jack laughed softly. "That's something you definitely don't have to worry about. Even if she did want to get you back together with Cal, he's married now. A few months ago, he met the woman of his dreams…yes, Cal has a soulmate, too. She's a member of high society, too, so there was no problem with them getting married."_

"_Who is she?"_

"_A beautiful young woman from Boston, ten years Cal's junior. You'll never believe what her maiden name was."_

"_What?"_

"_Dawson. She was a member of the Boston Dawsons."_

_Rose clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "Oh, that is so ironic! He lost me to a Dawson, and then he marries one! Do wonders never cease?"_

_Jack laughed, too, shaking his head. "No, not in your world or in mine. That's what makes life so interesting, whichever side of it you're on." He sobered then. "Rose, about your mother…"_

"_Do you really think she's changed?"_

"_I know she has. I paid a visit to her last night, and while she was shocked to see me, she wasn't angry. She's forgiven you for ruining her plans, especially since she's learned how much she hurt you. She's not used to being the one ostracized, avoided, and gossiped about. She wants to start a new life, too. We talked for a while, and she was genuinely sorry for she did."_

"_She could have been lying."_

"_She wasn't, Rose. Since I died, I've…been able to sense when someone isn't telling the truth. She wants to start a new life, and she wants it to be with you and your family. She told me that she won't impose on you, but she does want to be a part of your life, and of her grandson's."_

"_You didn't tell her about the twins, did you?"_

"_No. I left that up to you. I can't tell you what to do, Rose, but I can tell you what I know. She's changed—for the better, and she wants to be a real mother to you, and a grandmother to Andrew. Will you at least talk to her?"_

_Rose hesitated. She still wasn't sure that she could trust Ruth, but…she was her mother, and she'd always wanted her mother to care for her like other girls' mothers did._

"_All right, Jack. I'll call her in the morning. If she really wants to start over…I'll give her a chance. I won't let her live with me, but…I'll give her chance to make amends."_

"_You won't regret it, Rose."_

"_I hope you're right." She hesitated. "Jack…I have a question for you."_

"_What is it?"_

"_Thomas and I were talking about the war in Europe before I fell asleep. Since you know about things that are going to happen, can you tell me if we're going to be involved in this war, and if Thomas is going to wind up going over there?"_

_Jack shook his head. "That's something that I don't know, Rose. I don't know everything that's going to happen…only a few of the important things about your life. And no one has said anything to me about that."_

_Rose sighed. "I can't help but worry…"_

"_You'll be all right, Rose. That I do know. And I know that whatever happens, you'll survive. You're stronger now than you ever were before, and no matter what happens, your life will go on. You're keeping the promise that you made to me."_

_The light was fading now, and Rose felt herself being pulled away from him. "Jack…"_

_He kissed her hand as he began to fade away. "Until we meet again, Rose. Just remember that I love you."_

"_And I love you, Jack."_

XXXXX

Rose awoke with a start. Was it true? Could it possibly be true that her mother really wanted to make amends? Jack had never lied to her before, so she could only hope that he had told her the truth this time. After all, why would he lie to her? He cared for her, and wanted her to have a happy life. But what if he was wrong?

She would just have to trust him. There was nothing else that she could do.

Rose climbed out of bed as she heard soft sounds from Andrew's room. He was awake, babbling softly to himself as he played with his fingers, his eyes fixed on the patch of moonlight coming in the window. She picked him up and cuddled him until he fell back asleep.

As she laid him back in his crib, she thought back to the conversation she had had with Thomas earlier about the war. What if something happened? What if their country took part in it and he had to go away? What if she lost him, too?

There was nothing she could do about it—whatever was going to happen would happen—but it made her all the more determined to make each day count, and to record every event that happened in their lives. Her eyes strayed to the camera on a high shelf of the room, out of Andrew's reach but close enough that they could take pictures of his everyday activities, recording the baby's growth and achievements. When they had them developed, they would share them with friends and family members, so that everyone could see what had happened in their lives, and the happiness that they had known each day.

Looking once more at the baby, Rose returned to bed, snuggling up against Thomas and closing her eyes, her dreams filled with past joys that she had known with both of the men that she loved.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

_November, 1914_

Life was good for the Calverts. Thomas was doing well in his new job, working both with the clients sent his way by his boss and with clients that he had found himself. He was making a good deal of money, more than he had expected, and it wouldn't be long before they had enough money to buy a house of their own. They had been looking at houses, searching for one that had at least four bedrooms and plenty of space for their children to run and play.

There were several houses within a short distance of Thomas's work that they thought would be suitable. They were expensive by 1914 standards, costing between five and seven thousand dollars each, but between Thomas's work as a lawyer and Rose's budding film career, they would be able to afford one. The houses they were looking at were close enough to the movie studio Rose was working for that she wouldn't have to travel far, either.

The only dark spot in their lives was the knowledge that Ruth would soon be joining them in Los Angeles. In spite of what Jack had told her, Rose wasn't sure that her mother had good intentions. She had seemed to want only the best for her daughter before, but then she had slowly but surely destroyed the Calverts' standing in Cedar Rapids and tried to break up Rose and Thomas' marriage. There was no way that Rose could stop her from coming, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

Still, maybe things had changed. Certainly there was no way that Ruth could marry her off to Cal—Rose had confirmed that he was indeed married. One of her fellow actresses had a great deal of interest in what went on in high society and had subscriptions to several eastern newspapers. Rose had picked one up one day between scenes and had read about a charity ball being held by Caledon Hockley and his lovely wife, Lorraine. If Cal was as happy as Jack had told her, no scheme of Ruth's could get him to give up his wife in favor of Rose.

The last check that the Calverts had sent to Ruth had been returned with a note explaining that she had found a job and didn't wish to be a burden on their financial resources any longer. Rose had been shocked. Ruth, who had had such an aversion to honest work that she had tried to marry Rose off to get the money that was so important to her, was actually working for a living. She wouldn't have believed her, except for the fact that the money was also returned. Even if Ruth had accepted a lower standard of living, she still had to have a roof over her head and food and clothing.

It would be a long time before Rose could trust her mother again, if ever, but it seemed to her to be a good sign. Perhaps Jack was right, and Ruth truly had changed.

XXXXX

Rose sat at the kitchen table, a letter from her mother in her hands.

_My darling Rose,_

_I am so sorry for the way I behaved when last we met. It was uncalled for. However, you must understand that I was desperate. Everything that I owned had been sold to pay the debts that your father left behind, and the Hockleys were unwilling to provide for me with you gone. I was destitute, and didn't know what to do. When I learned that you were in Cedar Rapids, I knew that I had to try to get you back together with Cal. I realize now that I should have left you alone, and not tried to destroy your marriage or ruined your standing in your new home, but I was so blinded by the thought of all that I had lost that I couldn't see how much I was hurting you, my son-in-law, and my grandson._

_As so often happens with schemes like mine, it turned on me. A new family purchased the house that you had lived in, and while moving in they found the journal that you had left behind, detailing everything that I had done. News travels fast in a town like this, and it wasn't long before everyone knew what I had done. The town turned against me, just as it had turned against you when I was spreading those rumors._

_Your friend Myrtle was one of the first to turn against me. Before your journal was brought to light, she had treated me with great compassion and sympathy, but once she found out what I had done, she wanted nothing to do with me, and was quick to tell everyone who would listen about what I had done and how I had lied to everyone. She conveniently forgot that she had helped me to spread rumors about you, and now considers me to be the worst sort of person. She is sorry for how she treated you and wants to make amends, but I won't tell her where you've gone unless you want me to. She seems to be the sort of person who will turn on you at the least provocation, and I don't trust her. She believed everything that she heard about me before she ever saw your journal._

_Rose, I will be coming to Los Angeles soon, probably just before Thanksgiving. I should have enough money for the trip by then. I have been fortunate in that my employer cared more about my skills as a seamstress than my reputation, and didn't fire me when all of this happened. I have been sewing fine dresses for the ladies of the town—not so fine as what I once wore, but still better than I can afford now. The woman who hired me was very impressed by my ability to do fine embroidery—a skill of the upper class that is actually useful in the working world. It was this that kept me my job and enabled me to save enough money to leave town._

_I'm sure that you don't trust me, Rose, but I will have nowhere to go when I get to Los Angeles. I am hoping that you will find it in your heart to give me a place to live until I can find a job and a place of my own. I promise you that it won't be forever, but I need a place to stay until I can take care of myself._

_I love you, Rose, and I'm sorrier than you could ever know for the way I treated you._

_Your mother,  
Ruth DeWitt Bukater_

Rose stared at the letter, re-reading it, as she thought about what to do. Her mother was coming to Los Angeles, and soon. There was nothing she could do to stop her, but she didn't want to have to live with her. No matter what Jack said, she didn't trust Ruth, and while she would allow her to be a part of her life so long as she didn't turn on her again, there was no way that she could allow her to live under the same roof as her family.

Biting her lip, Rose at last took up a pen and a clean sheet of paper, and began writing back.

_Dear Mother,_

_You're right that I don't trust you, but I will allow you to be a part of my life once you come here, so long as you never try such a horrendous scheme again. I'm sure you know by now that Cal is married, so it would be pointless for you to try to break up my marriage again._

_Mother, I've thought about it, but I simply cannot allow you to live under the same roof as me. We can try to make amends, but it will be a long time before I can fully trust you again, if ever. No, you cannot live with us, but we will help you to find a place of your own, and pay for a hotel room for you until such a place is found. We have enough money that it won't be a burden, but if you wish to pay us back later we can work something out._

_In the meantime, please don't tell Myrtle where I am—if I should ever contact her again, it will be my choice. I think you're right not to trust her, and I don't fully trust her either, after what you told me. I suspected that she was helping to spread those rumors, but I wasn't sure until you confirmed it._

_I hope that you have a safe, pleasant trip, and you are welcome to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. Let me know when you will arrive, and we will meet you at the train station._

_Your daughter,  
Rose Calvert_

Rose looked the letter over, making sure that it was right, and then put it in an envelope and addressed it to her mother's hotel in Cedar Rapids.

XXXXX

Rose looked at the clock on the wall as she hurried to remove her makeup and change back into her street clothes. Her film, _Save The Last Dance_, was going very well, and the director was impressed enough by her work that he was trying to get her a contract with the studio so that she could do more moving pictures for them. If she worked hard enough, she might even find herself with some starring roles.

She loved being a moving picture actress, even if scenes often did need to be repeated again and again. A two-minute scene might take five hours to film if the director was not completely satisfied or if someone made an error. Thus far, she was doing very well, making only the occasional error, and she at last had a use for the dance training she had received in finishing school. She had often thought it boring and pointless then, but now she was glad that she had learned it. Her knowledge of ballet had come in handy, too, allowing her to be in more scenes than she had expected.

Glancing once more at the clock, Rose grabbed her purse and hurried out. She and Thomas were meeting her mother at the train station in half an hour.

On the ride to the train station, Rose stared out the window at the pouring rain, lost in thought. She hadn't seen her mother in months, not since she, Thomas, and Andrew had left Cedar Rapids for California. Was Jack right? Had Ruth truly changed? Or was it all an act by her mother, designed to ruin Rose's life?

She had felt assured that at least her mother couldn't try to break up her marriage in order to marry her off to Cal, until she had mentioned Cal's new marriage to Lora. Lora had read in the newspaper before she came to California that Cal had married a woman named Anne Dumas, but now Cal had married Lorraine Dawson. If he had ended one marriage so easily, how could she be sure that he wouldn't end his new marriage if she was once again available? He had often been angry with her, but Cal was nothing if not stubborn, and if he thought that he could get her back in some way…

But Jack had assured her that Cal was happy and that her mother had changed. He had never lied to her before, so why would he start now? And he had always been right about what was happening, too.

Sighing inwardly, Rose leaned back against the seat. She would just have to trust him, and hope that everything would turn out all right.

XXXXX

The train was right on time. Rose and Thomas stood inside the station, waiting as the passengers got off the train and swarmed through the waiting area, some greeted by friends or relatives and others going off on their own.

Ruth was one of the last ones to leave the train. She didn't have much with her, just two suitcases, but she still walked slowly, unaccustomed to carrying her own luggage. When she caught sight of Rose, she started to hurry towards her, then hesitated, unsure how Rose felt about seeing her again.

Slowly, Rose approached her mother, head held high. She didn't know what was going to happen, but whatever it was, she wouldn't let Ruth see how nervous she was.

"Rose…" Ruth set her bags down, holding her arms out tentatively toward her daughter. Rose came toward her, unsure of what to do.

Finally, Rose let Ruth embrace her. She stood stiffly for a moment, then relaxed, hugging her mother back. In spite of her uncertainty and her distrust, Ruth was still her mother, and a part of Rose had always wanted to be closer to her.

Ruth stepped back, holding Rose at arm's length and looking at her. "You're looking well," she told her, taking in her daughter's simple but clean appearance. Then, looking closer, she pointed to her chin, indicating that Rose had something on hers.

Embarrassed, Rose swiped a hand over her chin, wiping away the lipstick smear. The heavy makeup that she wore for the camera didn't always come off easily. Deciding to ignore her embarrassment, Rose spoke to her mother.

"I trust you had a good trip, Mother?"

"Yes. Very pleasant. Third class isn't as bad as I'd expected—even if it was noisy and had more children than I'd ever seen." She smiled, trying to reassure her suspicious daughter. "The children made me think of your family, of course. Where is my grandson?"

"He's at home with his aunt. He's getting teeth and is fussy, so we didn't want to bring him along."

"Ah…yes. You were the same way as a baby, Rose. Of course, you had a nanny to take care of you, but I could still hear you cry."

"Did you ever try to comfort me?"

Ruth looked embarrassed. "Well…it just wasn't done, you understand. That was your nanny's job…but you were my baby, and you fussed less if I held you…so I did. But don't ever let anyone know about that. It wasn't something that people of our class were supposed to do. Children were supposed to be left in the nanny's care, and only brought out when they were the most ornamental."

Rose looked at her mother in surprise. She had never guessed that Ruth had cuddled her and comforted her as a baby. No wonder she had known how to take care of Andrew!

Ruth nodded politely as Thomas picked up her bags, walking beside her daughter as they made their way to the car. Rose and Thomas had already rented a hotel room for Ruth, so they planned to drop her bags off there before taking her to the house for dinner and to see her grandson.

As they reached the car, Ruth looked at Rose again, her eyes narrowing as she took in her daughter's slightly swollen middle, which she hadn't noticed in the crowded station.

"Rose?" she asked, looking more closely at her. "Have you put on weight, or are you…"

"I'm in the family way, Mother," Rose replied flatly, looking at her as though daring her to make some unkind remark. If Ruth condemned her now, she would never forgive her.

"But, Rose…Andrew is only one and a half years old. Don't you think you should have waited longer before having another?"

"Mother…" Rose's expression turned cold. "There's nothing wrong with my having another baby, or babies, as the case is this time." At her mother's stunned expression, she elaborated, "I saw the nurse-midwife yesterday, and although she didn't believe it at first, she confirmed what I told her and what the doctor had already thought—I'm having twins."

"Rose, your son is still so young…what about your health?"

"What about it? I'm perfectly healthy." She slipped into the front seat of the car, refusing to look at Ruth. _Jack, you were wrong. She hasn't changed at all._ "Don't interfere with my life, Mother. You won't get away with it this time."

"Rose…I'm not trying to interfere in your life. Really I'm not." Ruth settled into the back seat, then leaned forward to talk to her daughter. "I'm concerned about you, is all. Don't you remember that maid that we had when you were a girl, the one who was so sickly and had so many children? She might have been healthier if she hadn't had so many children so close together. She died young, you know. I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

Rose turned to look at her. "Mother, I appreciate your concern, but…"

"I'm your mother, Rose. It's natural that I worry about you. If you need help—any help at all—just tell me. I'll do whatever I can." She paused. "Rose, I know that I hurt you very badly, and I'm sorry. I promise you now that I will never do such things to you again."

"Mother, I will try to give you a chance…but I can't make any promises. You're right. You did hurt me badly, and I don't know that I can forgive that. You drove us from our home and tried to break up our marriage."

"I'm sorry, Rose, and I thank you for even being willing to give me a chance. You're a better person than I ever was, and I promise that I won't let you down."

Rose nodded, hope flaring inside her. It would be a long time before she could be sure, but maybe she could trust her mother again.

XXXXX

Ruth settled into life in Los Angeles faster than anyone had thought possible. Within a couple of weeks of arriving, she found a one-room studio apartment that suited her well and moved in. Much to her daughter's surprise, she took a job at the same movie studio that Rose had gotten a contract with, designing costumes. "After all," she had remarked, "who knows costumes and clothing better than a former member of the upper class?"

Rose was still cautious and not quite trusting of her mother, but she visited her at least once a week, usually bringing Andrew with her. The baby adored his grandmother, something that disturbed Rose, for she wasn't sure that Ruth wouldn't turn her son against her or walk away and break the boy's trust, but she seemed to love her grandson, and even looked forward to Rose's expected babies.

It was on one of these visits that Rose asked a question that had been bothering her since shortly before her mother had arrived in Los Angeles.

"Mother, there's something that I've been wondering about since before you arrived, and I thought that perhaps you could give me an answer."

"What is it?"

Rose picked Andrew up and set him in her lap. "I read in one of the society columns that Cal had married a woman named Lorraine Dawson, and seemed to be very happy with her. But earlier, it was reported that he had married Anne Dumas—surely you remember her. She debuted at about the same time as I did."

"Yes, I remember her, and yes, Cal married both of them—but not at the same time, of course."

"What happened? I know that Anne detested Cal—as I recall, she refused to invite him to any of her debut functions, and was furious when her parents insisted that she do so."

"Well, Rose, it was much like your situation. Her family had fallen on hard times, and was looking for a wealthy husband for their daughter, to bring the Dumas' fortunes back. The Hockleys, of course, are among the wealthiest families in Pennsylvania, and with Cal still unmarried after your unfortunate 'death' in the Titanic sinking, Anne's parents managed to convince him that he and Anne would be a perfect match. Anne disagreed, although no one knew about it until after the wedding. You see, Cal had a new manservant—Lovejoy died in the sinking, in case you didn't know—and he was quite a handsome young man. All the maids chased after him, and he wasn't at all averse to taking advantage of their interest. Anne found him handsome, too—although that wasn't why she got involved with him. He had accompanied them on their honeymoon, along with Anne's maid, and she was desperate for a way out of the marriage. Two weeks after Anne and Cal were married, she invited the young manservant to her bed at a time when she knew that Cal would be likely to catch them. He did, of course, and immediately fired the manservant and filed for divorce from Anne. She went home to her family, apparently not at all contrite for causing such a scandal."

Rose's eyes were wide as she stared at her mother. "I wouldn't have thought that anyone would have the courage to do that to Cal!"

"You're a fine one to talk, Rose. You faked your own death to get away from him, and lest we forget, took up with another man."

Rose set her jaw stubbornly. "I loved Jack."

Ruth sighed. "I know you did, Rose."

Rose looked at her, startled. It was the first time that Ruth had really acknowledged how much Jack had meant to her daughter.

Ruth went on with her story. "At any rate, I think that Cal was more upset over being at the center of such a scandal than over the fact that a wife that he didn't love had made a fool of him. He had to divorce her, of course—he couldn't take the risk of having an heir that wasn't his."

"I actually feel a little sorry for Cal," Rose remarked. "Everyone wants his money, but no one wants him."

"It was at that time that I came up with the idea of getting you back together with Cal. Rose, when I first came to you in Cedar Rapids, I really did want to start anew. But I was still bitter about losing my place in the world, and when the news of the scandal broke, it seemed to me to be a perfect chance to get back all that I had lost. I tried to separate you and Thomas, and did succeed in ruining your reputation. I thought that I might bring you back to Philadelphia to marry Cal, and if I took care of Andrew myself, and didn't let you get attached to him, then you might not be sorry to leave him behind with Thomas. You could have married Cal and started a whole new life."

"But instead I stayed with the man I love and left you behind in Cedar Rapids, to face the consequences of your own actions."

"You were wiser than me, Rose. You've got a good husband, a beautiful little boy, twins on the way, and a life that only a member of the upper class would turn their noses up at. I had a lot of time to think after you left, and I realized that I had been wrong, but I had too much pride to admit it until the gossip turned on me.

"My efforts would have been in vain, anyway, Rose, even if I hadn't learned my lesson. Cal had finally learned his lesson, too—too many parents who try to push their daughters on a wealthy man are looking at his money, not at him. He met Lorraine Dawson at a charity function in Boston, and married her a few months later. I doubt she was after his money—the Boston Dawsons have far more money than the Philadelphia Hockleys—and Cal had no need of her fortune, either."

Rose patted Andrew on the back, leaning the drowsy infant against her shoulder. "I didn't like Cal much, but I'm glad that he found happiness. Everyone deserves that much."

They looked up as a knock sounded on the door. Ruth looked at the watch pinned to her blouse.

"Goodness! I didn't realize it was so late." She hurried to open the door. "Come in, Harry."

Rose's eyes widened again as she got another surprise—one of her fellow actors, Harry Phoenix, walked in the door and kissed Ruth's hand. He nodded to Rose.

"Good to see you. Mrs. Calvert."

"Yes. What brings you here?"

"Your lovely mother, of course."

"Mother?"

"Harry and I have a date tonight, Rose. We're going to dinner and to see the moving picture that you and he appeared in." Her eyes glowed with happiness.

"Mother, I never would have thought…the next thing you know, you'll be working as an actress."

Ruth giggled girlishly. "Maybe I will, Rose. Maybe I will."

Getting to her feet, Rose threw her head back and laughed with delight. Her mother really had changed for the better. And as she held Andrew close and bid her mother good-bye, she could have sworn that she heard Jack laughing in delight with her.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

_December, 1914_

"Mother?" Rose stood in the doorway of the cluttered costume room, watching Ruth leaf through a book of costumes, marking some pages for future reference.

She looked up at the sound of Rose's voice. "Yes? What is it, dear?"

"What time do you usually have lunch? I thought we might take it together."

"In about five minutes," Ruth told her. "But I can leave a little early."

"There's a nice little restaurant near here that I thought you might enjoy. Do you want to come with me? My treat."

Ruth gave Rose a surprised look. In spite of the fact that they had been getting along better, and Ruth had made no attempt to control Rose's life, Rose had remained rather standoffish toward her much of the time, especially at their workplace. Ruth wondered if it was because of the work her daughter now did—she had met more than one actress who thought they were above everyone else—or because she still didn't fully trust her. Or, perhaps, Rose was giving her mother a taste of the treatment Ruth had once dished out in spades.

Realizing that Rose was looking at her expectantly, she nodded. "Of course, Rose. I'd be glad to join you." Hesitating, she added, "What's the occasion?"

Rose shrugged. "No real occasion. I just…wanted to see you. I thought, since you'll be costuming me for my next role, we should…I don't know. You are my mother, and…"

Ruth nodded, beckoning to Rose to come closer. "Let me get my purse, and I'll be with you." She unlocked a drawer in her desk and retrieved her bag, a simple brown canvas purse that was far less elaborate than anything she had carried as a member of high society.

Rose stepped into the hall, then fell in step beside her mother. "It's only two blocks away, so I thought we would walk. The exercise will do us good."

"Are you sure you should be walking so much? You are in the family way…"

"The nurse-midwife says that walking is good for me, and that doctors who say otherwise don't really understand women's bodies. Anyway, I walked plenty when I was carrying Andrew, and he turned out just fine."

"And your first baby, Rose?"

Rose's face clouded. "I had nothing but rest with Jacquelyn—and she died anyway." Forcing a cheerful note into her voice, she told Ruth, "The restaurant is this way, and we're late enough that most of the lunch crowd will be gone. I think you'll like it—the food is excellent, the prices are low, and they cook things to your specifications."

Ruth looked ready to argue with her, but instead she only nodded. "Let's go, then."

XXXXX

"Mother," Rose said, after they were seated and a waitress had taken their orders. "I want to apologize for being so cool with you the past few weeks. I know that you've been trying hard to make up for the past."

Ruth was silent for a moment before answering. "I don't blame you, Rose. I wouldn't trust myself, either, if I had been in your position. But I hope that you'll continue to let me try. I truly am sorry for the way I treated you, and I'll do whatever it takes to win back your trust."

"Mother…" Rose hesitated. "I believe you this time. I think you truly have changed for the better. There was a time when I thought that people couldn't really change, that a person was a particular way and always stayed that way, but I was wrong. People can learn, and people can change. I changed so much in the few days I was on the Titanic…I'm living proof of how much a person can change. And you…you've changed, too, for the better, I think. You're so much more…warm and loving…than you were before. You still try to tell me what to do sometimes, but…"

"Rose, I'm your mother. Motherhood, once you enter into it, is something that you never quite let go of. Andrew is young, so you haven't yet learned this, but even when your children are grown, you're still their mother, still concerned for their welfare. My own mother, though she died when you were very young, still tried to advise me and tell me what to do, even though I was a grown woman, married and with a child of my own. It's a mother's instinct to protect her child, even when that child is grown."

Rose smiled. "I understand, Mother. And I may not always listen, or follow your advice, but I am glad that you care. I often thought that you didn't care when I was younger, that all you cared about were appearances and money, but…"

"Those things were far too important to me, Rose. I've learned my lesson. It is possible to care too much about what other people think, especially people who aren't really your friends and will turn their backs on you if you are in any way outside of what they consider to be proper. But I do care about what you think, and about whether you're doing well and have all that you need. I want you to have a good life, Rose. And I care about Andrew…my darling little grandson…and about my grandbabies to be. I'm glad that you're happy and healthy, and that you're doing what you always dreamed of doing—being an actress. And I think well of Thomas, too…he's a good man, and he makes you happy. I'm proud to have him for a son-in-law."

"Thank you, Mother. I…I'm glad that you moved out here, and that you're doing so well. We've had a chance to start over." She paused, thinking. "Mother…thank you for telling me about Myrtle. I'd often wondered what had happened, how our friendship had turned sour so quickly…but after what you told me, it makes more sense. She uses people. And to think that we once discussed matchmaking between her daughter and my son…I didn't intend to contact her after all that happened, but now I don't want her to know where I am."

Ruth smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much about her daughter, Rose. Often enough, when a parent is too strongly one way, the child will go the opposite way. Look at us. I was so straight-laced, and you were always so open. It was hard to believe sometimes that we were mother and daughter, except that you resembled me so much, especially when you were younger. And from what I saw of Emily Elaine, she was very sweet and open—she liked everyone—but she was only a baby, so it's too soon to tell."

Rose shook her head. "Nevertheless, I hope that Myrtle never finds me. Thomas and I have so much more at stake here than we had in Cedar Rapids—Thomas has his law career, and I my acting career. Andrew is getting older, and soon he'll be old enough to understand what a rumor is and can do, whether there's any truth to it or not. And then there'll be the twins in a few months…no, I'd just as soon not ever see her again."

"Rose," Ruth said, changing the subject, as the waitress brought their food. "I'm supposed to start costuming you next week for _Sense and Sensibility_. You've been in rehearsals long enough to know what you're doing and how you should do it, so I want to know more about what you expect of your costumes. The director has the final say, of course, but there are some issues with your costumes, due to the fact that you're six months pregnant."

"I know. The producer suggested that we delay filming until after I had the babies, but the director wants to go ahead. He says that he believes that you're skilled enough to make costumes that hide my pregnancy—after all, Marianne Dashwood is a young girl, and shouldn't be walking around with a big belly. She may be foolish, but she's not that foolish!"

Ruth laughed. "I know. The question is—do you want me to design gowns that are loose and flowing enough to hide your pregnancy—Regency style clothing can be made that way, you know—or do you want to wear a corset? You may wind up wearing one anyway, if filming takes longer than a month or so and they don't delay the rest of it until after the babies are born—just tight enough to hide your swollen middle, of course."

Rose shook her head. "I don't want to wear a corset. I always hated those things. I'd rather wear the loose, encompassing gowns. You're right—Regency style gowns can be cut in such a way that my pregnancy is hidden. I already talked to the director about the problem, and he says that we will film as much of my part as we can in the next month, and film the other parts while I'm away having the babies—at least the parts that show more of me than my head and neck. He has it all planned out."

"Given the role, I'm surprised he didn't get another actress for it."

Rose shrugged. "He wanted me in the part. He said that I was perfect for it, and no other actress would do—at least, not any that are under contract, and he couldn't get another studio to lend him his second choice. That's the problem with being under contract—you're stuck with one studio, whether you like it or not, so if another studio offers you a role, you have to get permission from your studio to take it. On the other hand, contract work means that you have a pretty good chance of having lots of parts, even if they're not always the ones you want."

"Well, at least this studio seems to be reasonable—they do most of their filming on the set or around here, instead of making you go off somewhere far away for your pictures. That could be hard when you have a husband and child at home."

"That's the nice thing about Hollywood and Southern California. It doesn't rain too much, so filming can usually go on schedule, and Southern California has so many different climates, towns, and types of scenery that are just a part of it that films can be made without taking the actors too far away from home. I mean, we have the ocean, the mountains, the valleys and hills—even the desert isn't too far away, and we have so many different people and cultures here that what we need is almost always available."

"You have been fortunate. You've even got a home close to both the studio and Thomas' work—even if it was expensive enough that some members of high society would appreciate it."

"We can afford it, between his law practice and my acting. _Save the Last Dance_ was so successful that I got a good bonus from it, and I even have some fans now. Who would have thought it?"

"You were much admired as a member of high society, too, Rose. You've always had a spark and a beauty that made people admire you. Even when you were a baby, and I took you out in your carriage, people always stopped to coo over you. And you loved every minute of it."

"I loved being the center of attention even then, did I?" Rose smiled at the thought.

"You were such a pretty baby, first with your tiny, perfect face and rosebud lips—that's where you got your name, by the way—and later with your headful of bouncy red curls." She stopped, noticing that Rose's face had grown sad. "Rose? What's wrong?"

"Jacquelyn had those same rosebud lips—even though she was born when I was only five months along with her, and lived for only a couple of minutes, I could still see her tiny, perfect features. She just wiggled a little, and tried to take a breath, and that was all. She was too little to live—my poor baby girl."

"Rose, I wish I could have seen her, and that I could have been there for you."

"I buried her in New York—she was tiny, but big enough to be buried. It wasn't quite a miscarriage."

"It must have been very hard."

"It was, yes. After she died, I didn't want to live. She…she was my last link to Jack—and she was gone." Rose's voice broke on the last word.

"But you did live."

Rose struggled to compose herself, reminding herself that she was in public, and that Jacquelyn wasn't gone from her forever—that her spirit was, in fact, inside one of the babies she was now carrying. Placing one hand on her middle, she replied, her voice calmer now, "Yes, I did. Maybe it was John's encouragement—he was the man I was living with, who had offered me a place to stay after the Carpathia docked—maybe it was the fact that Jack had made me promise to go on, no matter what happened, or maybe it was something inside me that wanted to live, or maybe it was all of that and more, but I survived. I lived on the streets for a while after I left John—and met Thomas there. He would stop and put money in the cup I used for begging—and then I got sick, and wound up in the shelter, where I met Lora. Thomas kept coming to see me—and eventually I got better, and realized that I loved him, and finally, I married him."

"And now you've got a beautiful little boy, and twins on the way," Ruth told her. "Life can be hard sometimes, Rose, but we have to go on with it, and try to make the best of whatever happens to us. I've lost people, too—my mother when I was barely twenty-three, and still needed her advice, my father about ten years later—and then your father, Rose, the love of my life. I like Harry, yes, but your father will always be in a corner of my heart—as Jack will be in yours, I suspect."

Rose nodded, surprised at her mother's understanding, and at how much she had really changed. "You're right. He will be. I love Thomas, but Jack will always be there, too, buried deep inside my heart."

"Rose, I hope that you won't object too much to my fussing over you and my grandchildren. If I had been listening to my heart earlier, I would have tried to spare you pain, instead of causing it. That's why I worry so much over you now—you are my daughter, and I want the best for you. That was why I arranged for you to marry Cal in the first place—I thought that he was the best for you. He had so much to give you…"

"But it wasn't what I needed. I needed love and respect, and the freedom to be myself, not money. Money is useful, but it isn't everything. He wasn't right for me—nor I for him. I never really liked him, but I'm glad that he's found happiness—even if I do laugh over the irony of him marrying someone named Dawson."

Ruth laughed. "I never really thought about it that way, but you're right. It is ironic. He lost you to a Dawson, and then married one—even if the two were in no way related." She sobered then, going on. "But Rose, I want you to know that when I fuss over you, when I worry about the babies you're carrying, I'm not trying to run your life. You lost your first baby—my first grandchild—and I want to spare you the pain of that happening again. I'm your mother, and it's natural for me to fuss over you. Just tell me if I've gone too far. All right?"

Rose nodded. "All right. But on the same note, you'll have to forgive me for being curious about your life. You say that you like Harry. Do you think it will go any farther? He mentioned you this morning."

"I don't know, Rose. It's much too soon to tell. Sometimes, you fall in love and it just seems right, and you know right away that what you have is something special. Other times—it takes a while, and it may or may not work out. I enjoy being with him, but it's too soon to know anything else."

"Whatever happens, Mother…I hope that you'll be happy."

"And I hope the same for you, Rose. I really do."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

_Christmas Eve, 1914_

Rose looked up as the doorbell rang, distracting her from the game she was playing with Andrew on the floor. Getting awkwardly to her feet, she went to the door and looked out through the peephole, then opened it.

"Mother! Come in." She held the door open for Ruth, taking the bag of food and gifts from her.

Andrew pulled himself to his feet and toddled over, grabbing Ruth's skirt and grinning up at her. "Gamma!"

"Andrew!" Ruth picked him up and cuddled him. "What a big boy you're getting to be!"

Andrew just grinned at her, showing his baby teeth. Giggling as she tickled him under the chin, he reached for one of her shiny earrings, tugging until Ruth disentangled his hand from it.

"Merry Christmas, Mother." Rose took Andrew after setting the bag in the kitchen, then hugged her mother, balancing the baby in one arm.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Rose. I know it's only Christmas Eve, but I promised Harry that I would spend Christmas with him and his daughter."

"His daughter?" Rose smiled slyly. "This is getting serious."

"Now, Rose, don't make too much of it. It's only Christmas."

"Only Christmas! Why, when Daddy was alive, Christmas was the biggest event of the year for our family."

Ruth blushed a little. "Well, now it's bigger. After all, I do have a darling grandson and more grandchildren on the way."

Rose just raised an eyebrow, looking at Ruth knowingly. "Whatever you say, Mother."

She set Andrew back down on the floor, ready to resume the game, but he had lost interest in it and toddled over to where Ruth had seated herself on the couch, tugging on her elegant green dress and trying to climb up next to her. Ruth picked him up and bounced him on her knee, making him giggle.

Rose sat down next to them, smoothing her own Christmas dress over her expanding middle. "Thomas should be home in an hour or so. A client had an emergency—he got caught stealing from his employer—and Thomas had to go to the jail to see him."

Ruth sighed. "That's the problem with such a job, Rose—you end up seeing people like that."

Rose shrugged. "From what I've heard, people of our old society sometimes got caught doing the same thing. I read in the newspaper just after Daddy died that his partner had stolen a lot of money from the business, leaving the Bukaters with all the debts and no money to pay them off."

Ruth glanced at Rose, a little shocked that she knew about that. She had never mentioned it to her daughter, but she should have known that Rose would have read about it. Her daughter always had been interested in what was going on in the world.

"It's true, Rose. Jonathan Remboldt was very slick, very smooth, and knew how to work his way into people's trust and affection. Your father trusted him implicitly. And while he let Mr. Remboldt have more and more responsibility and power, that man was cooking the books, stealing all the profits from the business and using them for himself, hiding the money in accounts that your father couldn't find. It wasn't until the stock fell, and the stockholders started screaming, that your father knew what had happened. Mr. Remboldt had kept two different account books—one showing your father what he wanted to see, and the real one, where he kept records of what had really happened.

"Of course, it was too late by that time—everything was in a shambles. The police went to arrest Mr. Remboldt—but someone had tipped him off, and by the time they got there he was gone, all of his American bank accounts cleaned out. The records were brought to light, and most of the stockholders sold off their almost worthless stocks, leaving us in even worse straits. Your father was devastated—that business had been in the family for seventy years, and now it was gone. Everything that he, his father, his grandfather, even his great-grandfather had worked for was gone.

"And then it was brought to light that the products that the company had sold were badly inferior—they broke easily and were dangerous—and someone sued him for what little he had left. We tried to hide it from you, but you always were a curious little thing. I guess it was inevitable that you would learn at least something of it. At any rate, the strain was too great for your father—he had had heart trouble for several years, and he had a heart attack just before the suit was finished."

"He died of a heart attack?" Rose's eyes were wide, her expression a mixture of sadness and surprise. "I always thought that he was sick for a long time."

"He was, Rose. The heart attack didn't kill him, but it did weaken him severely. A bad case of influenza ended his life early in 1911."

"Oh, Mother, how awful! I wish I'd known."

"We wanted to spare you the worry, Rose. You were only fifteen, and since you away at boarding school, you didn't see just what was happening."

"Was that why you didn't send me back after Daddy died? Because of the money?"

"Yes, and because I couldn't bear to be in that big house alone with only the servants. I wanted you with me. There was a perfectly good finishing school in Philadelphia that accepted some charity cases—and that was what you were by that time. It wasn't what I wanted for you, but there really wasn't any choice, unless I wanted to send you to a public school to finish your education, and I had too much pride for that."

"I didn't mind, Mother. I—I was glad to be closer to home. It was hard even to go to school after Daddy died—I missed him so much—so I was glad to come home every day. But Mother, there's something I don't understand. You've said that Daddy was the love of your life, but after he died, you acted bitter and angry, like he'd done something worse than just die."

Ruth looked down, cuddling the baby that had fallen asleep in her arms. "There really wasn't any excuse for the way I behaved, Rose, but I will try to explain it as best I can. I didn't know how to express my feelings after your father passed away—openly showing emotion just isn't done in high society, you know."

Rose nodded, remembering. Their society approved only of the most shallow and superficial of emotions, at least where they could be seen, and even showing emotion behind closed doors was frowned upon. They regarded themselves as the best, and it would never do to allow anyone to see them as anything less. Even trusted servants were never supposed to see or acknowledge the painful sides of their employers' lives, and after her husband's experience with the partner that he had trusted, it was no wonder that Ruth was less than trustful of those around her.

"I was angry and bitter in a way—your father had lost everything, everything that we had been taught to believe was important. Breeding is extremely important in high society—but money is even moreso. We didn't approve of the nouveau riche, but they were still one of us in a way—they had the money, businesses, and friends that we approved of, even if they didn't have proper breeding. Maybe they weren't quite to our standards—but poor people were even less so. Perhaps the new rich reminded us of where our money had come from, and the poor reminded us of where we could be.

"I had loved your father with all my heart—but he had died, leaving me with no one to turn to. Everything was on my shoulders all of a sudden—all the debts, the responsibilities—even you, my grieving daughter. I didn't know what to do with any of it, and I was at a loss as to how to help you. We hadn't gotten along well over the years, as I'm sure you recall. You took up smoking, and socializing with the servants—all things I couldn't approve of, though I realize now that there were far worse things you could have done, and you seem to have given up the smoking."

"I couldn't get cigarettes for a long time, and after that there didn't seem to be any point."

"Well, I'm glad you stopped. It's a disgusting habit, even if your father did enjoy his cigars greatly." She paused, patting Andrew's back as he stirred. "I was alone, except for you, and I didn't think you would understand much of it—fifteen-year-olds, no matter how well brought up, are not the most mature people in the world. I kept wondering why it had all happened—why your father had trusted Mr. Remboldt so much, although I had liked and trusted him, too, the times that I met him, and you were the only one who seemed standoffish. Perhaps you were wiser than either of us. But I kept wishing that things had been different, that your father had never hired him, that he hadn't trusted him, that he hadn't given him so much power. If only he'd paid more attention to what was happening, or invested less in the business and more in other things that would have left something for us. But it didn't happen that way, and it seemed that all I had left was the things that we had collected over the years—the fancy house, the lavish furnishings, the expensive clothes and jewelry.

"I couldn't bear to give up those things, although selling them would have paid off all the debts. I was afraid of poverty—I wasn't so naïve that I didn't know how hard life was for the poor, and I knew that I didn't have the knowledge or skills to get a good job or start my own business like some women have. I started looking for a solution—and I thought I'd found it at your debut ball, which I paid for by selling off a few of my newer pieces of jewelry, which had been mere whims when I had bought them. Caledon Hockley, one of the richest and most eligible bachelors of Philadelphia society, took an interest in you, and I knew that if I could arrange a marriage between the two of you, our problems would be at an end.

"Except that would have created new problems that you didn't expect," Rose remarked dryly. "Cal and I weren't exactly a match made in heaven."

"I know that now, but all I could think of then was that I seemed to have found a solution to our problems. You seemed shy around Cal, and a little nervous, even then, but I convinced myself that it was only because you were young and had only just then debuted. You didn't have much experience with men, so of course you were nervous around him. I did my best to push you two together, and when he finally proposed, I knew that my scheme had worked. He was fascinated by you in spite of your wild ways, and…I admit now that I pushed you hard to accept the proposal."

"I'll say you did. When I balked, you told me about our financial situation and told me what would happen if I didn't accept the proposal."

"I was unfair to you, Rose. I'll acknowledge that now. I should have let you make up your own mind about whom to marry. But I knew that there wasn't much time—the debt collectors were calling and sending more notices all the time. I gave them enough money to keep them happy, and then accompanied Cal and you to Europe, ostensibly as your chaperone. I was so angry when Jack Dawson came on the scene, ruining my carefully made plans." She shook her head. "I should have let things go. I knew that you weren't happy with Cal, and I don't think now that I was being fair to Cal, either—he would have been unhappy if he'd married you."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mother."

"I didn't it mean it in a bad way, Rose. You didn't love him—or even particularly like him—and he regarded you more as a prize than as a person. He wouldn't have been happy when his beautiful bride turned out to have thoughts and a mind different from her husband's."

Rose laughed, a little ruefully. "You're right. He wouldn't have liked it. He wanted an ornament, not a wife."

"But things did work out for you eventually anyway. You have a husband who loves you and doesn't mind that you think for yourself—"

"He appreciates the fact that I can think for myself," Rose interrupted, a bit defensively. "And so did Jack."

"You have been fortunate, Rose, to have found two great loves in your life."

"Yes, I have been." Rose took the sleeping baby from her mother and rocked him gently as he began to whimper. "I love Thomas, but I don't think I'll ever stop loving Jack, even if he's only in a distant corner of my heart."

She stood as Andrew's whimpers turned into wails. "I'd better go change him. I think he's hungry, too."

"I brought some cookies," Ruth told her. "Why don't I fix a plate of them while you change his diaper?"

"Sure, Mother. I'll be down in a few minutes."

XXXXX

A short time later, Rose carried the clean and hungry baby into the kitchen, setting him in his high chair. Ruth gave him a cookie and some milk in a cup with a lid so that he couldn't spill it. She and Rose sat down at the table, laughing as Andrew tried to stuff the whole cookie into his mouth at once. When he had finally settled into nibbling at it, they returned to their conversation.

"Mother," Rose began. "I never told you this, but I appreciated knowing that you took care of me when I was a baby and didn't just leave me with a nanny all the time."

Ruth nodded. "Thank you, Rose. It wasn't considered proper for me to spend so much time with you—it took me away from my parties and friends—but there was something about you that I just loved so much. I couldn't stand to see someone else watch you do all your growing, so even though you had a nanny, I took care of you anyway. I loved to sit and hold you, watching you fall asleep in my arms. Of course, I had it easier than some mothers—when you needed your diaper changed, or you needed to be fed late at night, your nanny took care of you. But you were my precious baby, and as it turned out, my only baby. I never had anymore. I loved to hold you and play with you, to take you for walks around the neighborhood in your carriage. I don't know what happened later, why I drew away from you—maybe it was because I was conscious of what other people were saying, about the fact that they disapproved of my spending so much time with you. As you know, upper class children are supposed to be ornamental, and left with the help when they aren't…and you were a normal child. You fussed, and you cried, and you whined when you couldn't have your way, and people disapproved of my having you with me then. I suppose their disapproval was stronger than my love for my little girl." She looked at her daughter. "I'm sorry, Rose."

"I'm sorry, too, Mother. I grew up thinking that you didn't really care much for me, and now it's hard to change those feelings—but I am trying, and I love Andrew very much."

"I know you do, Rose. I'm still trying to make up for all those years. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it."

Rose shook her head. "We can't change the past, Mother, but we can go on from where we are and try to do things better in the future. It was like Jack said—make each day count."

They were interrupted as the front door opened, signaling that Thomas was home. "Rose!" he called. "Where are you?"

"I'm in here, Thomas." Rose went to the front door to greet him. "How was your client?"

"He said he didn't do it."

"Don't they usually say that?"

"Yes, but for some reason, I'm inclined to believe him this time. Money has been disappearing from his company, but I don't think he's responsible. I think he may be the scapegoat here."

"Well, you'll find out." She gave him a kiss, then gestured for him to follow her to follow her to the kitchen. "Mother is here."

"Wonderful." Thomas sighed, still not completely trusting Ruth.

"Thomas!" Rose hissed under her breath. "Be nice."

"I am. I am."

Andrew squealed in delight when his father walked into the kitchen, reaching hands covered with cookie crumbs toward him. Rose quickly wiped her son's hands before his father picked him up, then hurried to clean up the mess the baby had left on the high chair tray.

Thomas sat down next to Ruth, grinning as his son tugged on his ear and squealed, "Dada!"

"He adores you," Ruth remarked, offering him the plate of cookies.

"He's my boy," Thomas replied, still grinning at the baby. He took a cookie, broke off a piece, and offered it to Andrew.

Andrew took it, settling down in Thomas' lap and munching contentedly. "Thomas!" Rose scolded. "I just cleaned him up."

She couldn't really be angry, though, not when both her husband and her son gave her identical grins. She laughed, sitting down next to them.

"Oh, I stopped on the way home and bought you something," Thomas told her, supporting Andrew with one arm and reaching into his jacket pocket with the other. "Remember how eager you were to start a memory tree last year?"

Rose nodded. "Yes. We've still got that angel. Do you have any ideas for a special ornament for this year?"

"Well…I saw these ornaments advertised in a store window on the way to the jail, so on my way back I stopped and bought them." He pulled a brown paper bag from his pocket and handed it to her.

Curious, Rose opened it, her mouth dropping open in surprise and delight as she took out the tissue paper wrapped ornaments. They were made of brightly colored stained glass, with a name in the middle of each one, along with the year.

She picked up the first one, tracing the horse-shaped ornament with her fingers as she read the name. "Andrew. Christmas, 1914."

"Like it?"

"I love it." She showed it to Andrew, but quickly moved it away when he reached for it. She didn't want him to drop it.

"Look at the others."

Rose pulled out the other ornaments, both in the shape of babies. "Jack. Christmas, 1914. Laura. Christmas, 1914. Oh, Thomas, they're wonderful!"

"I thought you'd like them. They didn't have Lora's name with the spelling we're going to use, so I got the closest one."

"Jack? Laura?" Ruth looked at the ornaments. "Who are they? Is that ornament to commemorate Jack Dawson, or—"

"They're for the twins," Rose explained. "Their names will be Jack and Lora."

Ruth raised an eyebrow. "Is there a method now for determining whether a baby will be a boy or girl before it's born?"

Rose blushed, a little sheepish. "No, but…we just know. Jack is in honor of my first baby…" She frowned as Ruth gave her a disbelieving look. "It is!"

"Whatever you say, Rose."

"Lora is in honor of Thomas' sister, who brought us together when I was in the shelter and who we lived with when we first came here." Rose lay the ornaments against her middle, grinning as the babies kicked. "I think they know."

Thomas laughed, handing Andrew to Ruth. "Let's put them on the tree."

XXXXX

Later, as everyone sat around the tree opening presents, Ruth handed Rose a letter that had come the day before.

"Here. We were so busy yesterday that I forgot to give you this. It came in the studio's mail, and they gave it to me because they know I'm your mother."

Rose took it, frowning as she recognized Myrtle's name and address. How had she found her, and what did she want?

Still frowning, she opened the letter, hoping that Myrtle wasn't going to try to ruin her life again.

_Dear Rose,_

_I want to apologize for the way I treated you in Cedar Rapids. It was uncalled for, especially since what I did was in reaction to the lies spread by your awful mother. I can't tell you how sorry I am, but when the truth came out, I was one of the first to defend you._

_I suppose you're wondering how I found you. As you probably remember, I love moving pictures, and I see them whenever there's a new one at the theater in town. When I read that a new picture was coming out early in December, Save the Last Dance, I eagerly read the article. Your name was mentioned in it, as well as the name of your studio._

_I saw the picture, and it was wonderful. You're a very talented actress and dancer. I didn't know your address, but I mailed this letter to the studio hoping that you would get it._

_I hope that you can forgive me for the way I treated you in Cedar Rapids, and that we can be friends again._

_Your friend,  
Myrtle Sinclair_

"I don't believe her!" Rose exploded. "After what she did, slandering us all over Cedar Rapids, she wants to be friends again!"

"She has a lot of gall," Ruth agreed, taking the letter and reading it. "Rose, are you going to respond to this?"

"No," Rose replied. "I'd be a fool if I did. We have so much more at stake here than we did in Cedar Rapids—think of the damage she could do if she knew exactly where to find me. The studio won't listen if she just sends letters to them, especially if what she says sounds crazy—there's plenty of crazy fans out there—but if she knows where we are, she could make our lives miserable."

"Ignore her, then," Thomas suggested. "Maybe she'll leave you alone."

"Good idea." Rose crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the fireplace, watching as the flames quickly turned it to ash. She did the same with the envelope, then used the poker to mix the ashes with the others. "Problem solved."

"Maybe not," Ruth warned. "She may try to write to you again. I don't trust her, Rose."

"Neither do I, after all she's done. She reminds me of Jonathan Remboldt, in a way…she pretends to be friendly while she stabs you in the back." She paused, thinking. "Maybe they're related."

"Who's Jonathan Remboldt?" Thomas wanted to know.

"Someone from my childhood," Rose told him. "It's a long story, and I'll tell it to you later."

Ruth looked at Andrew, who had fallen asleep amidst the brightly colored wrapping paper that interested him far more than the presents. "It's starting to get late."

Rose glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was almost nine. "I'm surprised he stayed awake this long. He'll be a tired baby tomorrow if we don't put him to bed soon."

"I need to be going, too," Ruth told them. "I told Harry I'd be there at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

Rose gave her the same sly grin from earlier. "Enjoy yourself, Mother."

"Now, Rose, don't make too much of it…"

"Merry Christmas, Mother. You go ahead and have a great time."

"Thank you, Rose. I think I will."

XXXXX

A couple of hours later, Rose drifted to sleep in Thomas' arms, warm and content, her dreams full of Christmas and babies. After a while, though, the dream changed, and she found herself on Titanic once again.

XXXXX

_Rose looked around her stateroom, surprised to see that it was decorated for Christmas. It was brighter and more beautiful than she had ever seen it. Sensing that someone was there, she turned, her face lighting in a smile when she saw Jack._

"_Merry Christmas, Rose." He walked toward her, taking her hand and leading her onto the promenade deck. She was surprised to find it warm and sunny, not at all like the Decembers she remembered._

"_Jack…" She smiled, hugging him tightly, laughing when the babies kicked against him._

_He smiled, too. "Merry Christmas, kids. Jack Taylor and Lora Jacquelyn. Now, what I can't quite figure out is if you're half-siblings or full siblings to my little girl, since you, Lora, carry her spirit."_

_Rose smiled sadly, still embracing him. "You wish she'd lived, don't you?"_

_He nodded. "Yes, I do, even though I know that her soul has been given a second chance to live in her sister's body."_

"_It's not quite the same, though."_

"_No, but I love your new little girl just as much as the first one you carried."_

"_Thank you, Jack." They sat down together, Rose leaning against him. "What's going on this time?"_

"_A couple of things, neither of which are going to make you happy."_

"_Oh, God." Rose hid her face in her hands. "Sometimes, I think I'd rather not know."_

"_But this lets you be prepared."_

"_I know, but…well, what it is?"_

_Jack laughed at Rose's impatient tone, then sobered. "It's about Thomas."_

"_Oh, no."_

"_He's going to go away to war."_

"_What!" Rose jumped up and began pacing. "He promised he wouldn't sign up!"_

"_And he won't. He's going to be drafted."_

_Rose turned to him. "When?"_

"_In April of 1917. That's when the United States is going to enter the war."_

"_But that's only a little over two years away! The children will still be young. Why would they draft someone with young children?"_

"_I can't speak for government logic, or military intelligence, which is a misnomer anyway."_

"_But how can they be so stupid? Haven't any of them studied history? Don't they know what kind of trouble the last draft caused?"_

"_Probably not. And besides, bad things never happen twice."_

"_Bullshit!"_

_He laughed. "You haven't changed a bit."_

_Rose sat down beside him again. "Jack, it isn't fair. It isn't right. Why should he have to go to war if he doesn't want to?"_

"_That's the $64,000 question."_

"_What?" Rose gave him a confused look._

"_It's nothing. Just something from a future TV show."_

"_What's a TV?"_

"_Never mind. You'll figure it out. It's nothing bad."_

"_That's good to know." Rose paused, taking a deep breath. "Jack, will Thomas be all right? Will he come back?"_

"_I don't know, Rose. No one's told me that."_

"_It isn't right. I don't want to lose him."_

"_I wish I could tell you what will happen, but I can't. I don't know."_

"_Jack…" Rose threw her arms around him. "Thank God you'll never have to go through that."_

"_I would have, if I'd lived. I wouldn't have come back, either."_

"_No!"_

"_Rose, calm down. I'm already dead, remember? I'm beyond all that now."_

"_But what about Thomas?"_

"_I wish I could tell you, Rose. I really do."_

_Rose sighed, leaning against him. "At least it's still a couple of years away. I've got that much time with him, at least."_

"_I hope you have much more."_

"_So do I." Rose leaned her head against his shoulder, stunned by the news. How could she let Thomas go off to war?_

"_Rose…there is something else. Something much more immediate."_

_She stiffened, looking up at him. "What is it?"_

"_It's about your old friend Myrtle."_

"_She's going to ruin my life again, isn't she? Damn her!"_

"_I don't know if she's going to ruin your life, but she is coming to visit you."_

"_God's being really stingy with the information these days, isn't He?" Rose scowled. "You can't tell me much of anything."_

"_He decides how much I can tell you, and only gives me that much information. I may be an angel now, but I still have a big mouth."_

"_You don't say."_

"_Anyway, I do know that she's coming to visit you, and that she'll find you."_

"_How? Is the studio going to tell her? I can't believe they'd give out my information."_

"_No, they won't tell her…but you are listed in the phone book."_

"_Shit." Rose buried her face in her hands. "What is wrong with my life?"_

"_Nothing. If everything were perfect, you'd be bored out of your mind."_

"_I could use a little boredom right now."_

"_She has changed a little, though I don't know in what way." He shrugged. "If all else fails, you can tell the studio that she's stalking you. You won't be the first actress to have that problem. Besides, your husband's a lawyer. He could probably make it so that she's required to stay away from you."_

"_Until he goes off to war, anyway." Rose's eyes filled with tears. "Jack, why does this have to happen? I've already lost you and Jacquelyn. I don't want to lose Thomas, too."_

"_I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right, but I can't. I don't know anymore than you do." He rocked her gently as she cried into his shoulder._

_The light began to fade, and Rose felt Jack pulling away from her. "No, Jack. Not yet."_

"_It's time for you to go back, Rose."_

_She could feel him fading away. "No, Jack."_

"_I love you, Rose. Until we meet again."_

_Rose squeezed his hand as he faded away. "I love you, too, Jack."_

XXXXX

Rose opened her eyes to find herself lying in her own bed, Thomas sleeping soundly beside her. She sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes, wishing that she could believe that it had just been a horrible nightmare. But she knew better. Myrtle was coming, and Thomas would be going away to war in a couple of years—and he might not come back.

She rolled over, pulling Thomas against her. He woke up, squinting at her in the darkness as she choked back a sob.

"What's wrong, Rose?"

She just shook her head. She couldn't tell him. "Hold me, Thomas. Just hold me."

XXXXX

Two days later, as Ruth was fitting one of Rose's costumes, she told her how her visit with Harry had gone.

"It was very nice, Rose. His daughter is in her mid-twenties and unmarried. She's an actress, too…but she prefers the stage to the moving pictures."

"Is she going to be my stepsister?"

"What? Rose…I told you not to make too much of this visit."

"Well, is she?"

"It's too soon to think about that yet, Rose. Think about the family you have, not the family you might have."

Rose raised an eyebrow at her, then turned so Ruth could finish pinning up her hem. "Mother…Myrtle is coming to visit."

"I thought you weren't going to contact her."

"I didn't. She invited herself."

"Is she going to stay with you?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Rose closed her eyes, trying to push the rest of what Jack had told her out of her mind.

"Don't worry, Rose. Los Angeles is a big city…"

"Thomas and I are listed in the phone book."

"Oh. Well, I wouldn't worry too much, Rose." She looked at her daughter, who was growing teary-eyed. "Rose, you have a contract. People love you. And this is a big enough city that not everyone knows you. I don't think she can ruin your life this time. It isn't something to cry about."

"Mother…I don't want her here."

"I know, Rose…but you'll be all right. If she interferes, call the police and they can get rid of her for you."

"You don't understand…"

"She turned on me, too, Rose. I do understand."

Rose just shook her head. _You don't understand, Mother,_ she thought._ Myrtle doesn't upset me half as much as the thought of losing Thomas. But you can't understand, because I won't tell you. How could I ever explain how I know? I just have to make each day with Thomas count, because I don't know how many days we'll have._

"Rose, in case you were wondering, I don't want her here, either. I don't trust her. And I had nothing to do with her coming."

"I didn't think you did, especially since her letter said how awful you are. I don't think you'd invite her when she speaks of you like that."

"No, I wouldn't. But if she goes after you, Rose, I'll defend you every step of the way."

Rose turned suddenly, giving Ruth a hug. "I know you will, Mother."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

_January 1915  
Los Angeles, California_

Myrtle Sinclair walked slowly from the train station to a nearby hotel, a sleeping Emily Elaine in one arm and her suitcase in the other. She looked around as she walked, marveling at how green and warm Los Angeles was, even in the January rain.

Emily stirred and whimpered as her mother shifted her in order to open the hotel door. Myrtle murmured soothingly to the baby as she slipped inside, her suitcase banging against the doorframe. She was tired, and wanted nothing more than to rest for a little while, but she had to find a place for them to stay first, preferably for as little as possible. She didn't have much money left.

Luck was with her. The rates at the shabby little hotel were low, and she could afford to stay there for about a week before her money ran out. Briefly, she wondered what she would do after that, but then pushed the thought away. She would worry about that when the time came.

Climbing the stairs, she found her room and set her suitcase down, laying her sleepy infant on the bed as she did so. After taking care of the baby, she lay down next to her. She would rest for a little while, but then she had to try to find the only people that she knew in Los Angeles—the Calverts.

XXXXX

Myrtle awoke a couple of hours later, feeling refreshed. Emily still lay beside her, wide awake. The baby's blonde curls sprang wildly around her head as she sat up and looked at her mother, giving her a broad smile that showed off her baby teeth before popping a thumb into her mouth.

Myrtle sat up beside her daughter, then stood, scooping her up and carrying her into the bathroom to change her diaper. When she was done, she locked the door to her room and headed down the stairs, the baby balanced on her hip.

"Is there a telephone directory available?" she asked the clerk, ignoring the way he looked her over, half-assessingly, half-condemningly, as though she were doing something wrong by staying in a hotel without her husband. She had her reasons for being there, but they were none of his business.

"Yes, ma'am," he finally answered, bringing a thick book from a shelf behind the counter. He eyed her as he handed her the book, wondering just who she was trying to find.

Myrtle ignored him as she sat down in a chair, Emily in her lap, and opened the book. Thumbing through it, she looked for both the addresses of Rose's movie studio and of the Calverts.

When she found the addresses, she wrote them down, wondering as she did so if Rose would even be willing to see her. She felt a flush of shame inside as she thought of how she had treated the Calverts back in Cedar Rapids, but then reminded herself that she had been one of the first to come to their defense when the truth had come out. Surely that would count for something.

XXXXX

Myrtle's eyes widened as she looked at the shining outer walls of the Eagle Movie Studio, where Rose worked. It was even more glamorous-looking in person than in the newspaper. A giant eagle statue appeared ready to swoop down on the wide-eyed tourists below, and the freshly painted walls and gates shone in the winter sunlight. Blooming flowers and green potted plants grew on either side of the gates. It was like nothing she had ever seen in all her years in Cedar Rapids.

Approaching the gate, she waited impatiently as the guard argued with a tall blonde woman. Myrtle stared, fascinated, as the woman tried to convince him to let her in. No one from Cedar Rapids dressed the way this woman did, except for a young woman on the outskirts of town, and everyone knew what she was. Were things so different in Hollywood?

The guard was growing angrier by the moment. "Look, Miss Platt," he told her, taking her by the shoulder and giving her a not-so-gentle push toward the street. "You are not a part of any picture being made here, and I have specific orders not to let you in. I suggest you go somewhere else."

The blonde woman's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "Well! I guess I know where I'm not wanted!" she huffed, turning on her heel and flouncing away.

Myrtle jumped aside as the woman nearly ran into her, then approached the guard, hoping that he would be more receptive to her than he had been to Miss Platt.

"Excuse me, sir," she began. "My name is Myrtle Sinclair, and I'm looking for a friend of mine. Perhaps you know her. Her name is Rose Calvert, and she's an actress with this studio—"

Her heart sank as he sighed in irritation. "What is it with you tourists? The actors here have a job to do, and it doesn't include signing autographs for anyone who just waltzes in off the street."

"But, sir—"

"Yes, I know. She's a friend of yours. Half the tourists who come here have 'friends' here. If I let in everyone who had a 'friend' here, we'd have a riot. If you want to communicate with Mrs. Calvert, write her a letter. See if she'll invite you to tour the studio."

"But I came all the way from Cedar Rapids, Iowa—"

"Well, I'm afraid it's a wasted trip, then. You can't get in without a pass or an invitation. If Mrs. Calvert is really a friend of yours, she'll see to it that one is issued to you."

"But—"

The guard turned away, dismissing her. Myrtle's shoulders slumped. She would have preferred to see Rose at work, where she wouldn't be an intruder in her home, but it seemed that visiting her at home was the only option left to her. Rose had never answered her letter.

She turned, then jumped, startled, as Miss Platt walked up to her, almost running into her a second time.

"Don't listen to him," the tall blonde told her, sneering at the guard. "Rose Calvert isn't even there today. She's at home, taking more and more time off because she's in the family way."

"Um…do you know Rose?" Myrtle asked, trying not to be overwhelmed.

"Of course I do. Rose and I are old friends. We've been acting together since she got her first role. I was the one who helped her get it."

"Oh?" Myrtle had seen _Save The Last Dance_, and this woman hadn't been in it that she remembered.

"Yes. Why, I met Rose the first day she came here. Perhaps she's mentioned me. My name is Sylvia Platt."

XXXXX

Myrtle sat in the taxi beside Sylvia, trying to stay as far away from her as possible. The tall, blonde woman was more than a little overwhelming, and something about her just didn't seem quite right. For a friend of Rose's, she certainly hadn't been welcome at the studio, and she had chattered on and on, telling stories that even Myrtle, with her love for gossip, could tell weren't true.

Still, she had given the driver the address that Myrtle had copied from the telephone directory, so perhaps she did know Rose. Myrtle couldn't tell. All she knew was that she needed to speak with Rose and try to make amends. She didn't know what else she could do.

The taxi pulled up in front of a large, attractive house with a wide lawn and several winter-bare trees. Sylvia and Myrtle climbed out of the taxi, Myrtle holding Emily Elaine close. The driver looked at them expectantly, waiting for his fare.

Sylvia gave him a sheepish smile, then turned to Myrtle. "I'm afraid I forgot my money," she told her. "Perhaps you can pay him."

Myrtle's heart sank. Taxi fare was expensive, and she didn't have much money. If she paid the fare, it would mean one less day that she would be able to stay in the shabby little hotel—and she had nowhere else to go. But what could she do? The driver was glaring at Sylvia, obviously not willing to leave without being paid.

Sighing, Myrtle reached into her purse and counted out the exact amount, handing it to the man. He scowled at her, obviously disappointed that she hadn't given him a tip. Without another glance at the women, he got back into his car and drove away, leaving them standing on the sidewalk.

Taking a deep breath, Myrtle followed Sylvia up the walkway to the front door. Sylvia tried to open it, but upon finding it locked, she banged on the door, calling for Rose to let her in.

Both Myrtle and Sylvia were surprised when Thomas answered the door. Ordinarily, he would have been at work at this time of day, but both Rose and Andrew had bad colds, and he had come home during his lunch break to see how they were.

He sighed when he saw Sylvia. "Sylvia, what are you doing here?" he asked, blocking her path. It wasn't the first time that Sylvia had shown up, and neither he nor Rose were particularly fond of her.

"I came to see Rose, darling," she told him, striking a glamorous pose. Thomas just rolled his eyes, wondering if Sylvia would ever understand that she wasn't wanted.

Sylvia scowled as he rolled his eyes. "I also brought a friend of Rose's with me," she added, stepping aside and pushing Myrtle in front of her. Myrtle cringed, wishing that she had been able to talk to Rose alone without talking to Thomas, whose expression was looking stormier by the minute.

"Myrtle, what are you doing here?" he demanded, staring at her with unfriendly eyes.

"I-I came to see Rose," Myrtle began, but he cut her off.

"Rose!" he shouted, walking to the staircase and calling up. "Rose!"

A moment later, Rose appeared at the top of the stairs, a squalling Andrew in her arms. Tightening her robe around her swollen middle, she came slowly down the stairs.

"I just got him to sleep," she told Thomas irritably, her voice nasally from her cold.

"You have some visitors," he told her, gesturing to the door.

Rose looked even more irritable when she saw Sylvia. Then, her eyes widened and her face paled as she caught sight of Myrtle.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was decidedly unfriendly.

"Rose…I-I came to see you…"

At that moment, Emily Elaine, upset by Andrew's cries, started to wail herself, distracting her mother. Both women turned to comforting their offspring, while Sylvia looked at them, a superior smile on her face.

"This is why I don't have children," she remarked, looking at the fussing babies smugly.

Thomas shook his head, mumbling something under his breath about no man wanting to put up with such a crazy woman long enough to give her a baby, and said to Rose, "I have to get back to work now. I'll take Sylvia home on my way."

Rose patted Andrew's back, looking at Thomas pleadingly. "Must you go?"

"I have to get back, love. I'm working on a major case. You know you can call me if you need me."

Rose took a deep breath, coughing at the exertion. Andrew stopped crying long enough to stare at his mother in fascination. "All right. I'll be here when you get home. Bye, Thomas." She glared at Sylvia, who had settled down on the couch. "_Good-bye, Sylvia_." It was hard enough for her to deal with Myrtle's sudden visit; she didn't need Sylvia hanging around and listening to every word.

"Oh, now Rose, I thought we could visit for a while…"

"Rose is sick, Sylvia. I'll take you home." Thomas politely but firmly took her arm and pulled her from the couch.

Sylvia's eyes narrowed, but she held her head high, giving Rose a haughty look. "Of course. I wouldn't want to catch—whatever it is you have. Who knows what it might do to my career?" She followed Thomas out the door.

"It would probably improve it," Rose mumbled waspishly as she closed the door behind the tall blonde woman. Looking at Myrtle, she blushed slightly, realizing that she had overheard her.

"I take it she isn't really a friend of yours?" Myrtle sank down on the couch, setting Emily next to her and hoping that Rose wouldn't order her to leave.

"She's a first class nutcase," Rose replied. "Excuse me while I put Andrew back to bed. His cold is making him rather cranky."

A moment later, she returned, glancing at Emily Elaine, who was curled up asleep on the couch with her thumb in her mouth. Rose sat down in an easy chair across from the couch, still not happy at Myrtle's presence.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Myrtle looked down. "Rose, I…I wanted to apologize for what I did to you back in Cedar Rapids."

"It's a bit late for apologies, don't you think?"

"Rose…when I found out that the things your mother had said were lies, I was one of the first to defend you."

"Yes, before you had even read my diary. Mother told me all about it."

Myrtle blanched. "When…when did you see your mother? Or did she write you a letter?"

"She's living in Los Angeles now. She works as a costume designer for Eagle Movie Studio."

"Oh…I see."

"No more lies, Myrtle, and no more gossip. It won't work this time."

Myrtle was about to reply when there was another knock on the door. Rose got to her feet, waddling over to answer it.

"What do you want?" She stopped, seeing who it was. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't know it was you."

"Thomas called and told me that you and Andrew were ill, so I decided to stop by and see…" She trailed off as she caught sight of Myrtle. "I see I've come at a bad time."

Myrtle stood slowly, making sure that Emily Elaine was secure on the couch. "Hello, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater."

Ruth ignored her. "Would you like me to come back later, after work?"

"If you could. As you can see, I have a…guest."

"Yes. I see." Ruth looked at Myrtle coldly. "Call me when she's gone, Rose. I don't wish to interrupt."

"Mother, it's all right…"

"No, Rose. I have some good news, and I would prefer not to impart it to her. Heaven only knows what she'd do with it."

"All right, Mother. It shouldn't be long."

"Call me when she's gone, Rose. I will see you then." Ruth gave Myrtle a warning look and turned away, walking out the door without a backward glance.

"I-I see she's still angry with me." Myrtle spoke quietly, rubbing her daughter's back.

"After what you did to all of us, can you blame her?"

Myrtle looked down at the floor again. "Rose…I don't know why I did what I did. I always liked you…"

"You liked me so much that you were willing to believe the most ridiculous, inflammatory gossip about me."

"I…Rose, I was wrong. I acknowledge that now."

"You acknowledged that when my journal was found. In fact, according to Mother, you turned against her even before you'd read any of my journal, relying entirely upon hearsay for what you thought."

"I-I've changed, Rose. I'm not like that now. At least, not as much. I didn't believe half of what Miss Platt told me."

"That's good, because she makes things up as she goes along." Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly did she tell you?"

"That she's your best friend and a famous actress. That she got you your big break. That your mother is an actress now, and that she got that way by sleeping with every man in the studio as well as her son-in-law."

"What?" Rose's eyes sparked, her expression livid. "That lying little gossip! She's crazy. She's nuttier than a fruitcake. Why she hasn't been put away yet, I don't know."

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't believe anything except that you are becoming a famous actress and that you're in the family way. And both of those things are true."

"You are not to spread a word of what she said." Rose leaned over as far as she could, her eyes cold. "Or I will turn on you, and let you know what it's like to have your life ruined."

Myrtle stared at her for a moment, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Then she laughed bitterly.

"Rose, you're too late to ruin my life," she told her, half-choking on a sob. "My life was ruined a long time ago, and I have no one to blame but myself."

Rose sat back, surprised at Myrtle's outburst and sudden tears. "What do you mean?"

"My husband…my husband turned against me after he realized that I'd helped to spread all those lies about you. He always liked you and Thomas…and after he found out what I'd done, and that everything Ruth had said and I'd agreed with were lies, he turned on me. At first, it wasn't so bad—he just didn't talk to me much, and when he did it was almost always something bad. I dealt with it—after all, he is my husband. And even when he started taking his anger out on me—it wasn't just what I did, you see. Life hasn't been good for us…he lost his job at the mill, and took to drinking too much. But even when he would slap me, or shake me until my teeth ached, I put up with it. But when he started taking things out on Emily Elaine…that's when I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't let him hurt her. And now…now there's another baby on the way…"

"But why did you come here? Why didn't you go back to your parents or something?"

Myrtle wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "They wouldn't take me back. They never approved of my marriage, you see. David isn't…he isn't of our faith, and they never could stand that. They said that what was happening was my fault, because I'd gone against what they'd told me to do. I didn't know what to do…you're the only one I know outside of Cedar Rapids…so I came here, hoping you could forgive me." She took the handkerchief that Rose offered her, blowing her nose. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

Rose didn't know what to say. She knew how it felt to be in a relationship with a man who took his anger out on her, and she knew what it was like to love a man that her mother didn't approve of. But she didn't trust Myrtle. She couldn't…not after what had happened in Cedar Rapids.

"How do I even know that you're telling me the truth?"

"Rose…I wouldn't lie about something like this. I can't go back to David. I love him so much…but I'm afraid of what he'll do to me and the children. He's not rational when he's drunk."

"Myrtle…"

"I'm sorry, Rose. I shouldn't have come. After what I did to you, I'm not surprised that you won't forgive me." She wadded up the handkerchief and gave it back to Rose.

"Myrtle…where are you staying?"

"The Redwall Hotel. It's by the train station…"

"I'll speak to Thomas, and decide if I want to see you. But if there is any indication…any indication at all…that you're going to do what you did before, you can forget about getting any help from us. You ruined our lives once before…we won't allow it to happen again."

"I won't, Rose. I promise, I won't hurt you or your family again."

"Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. I don't trust you, and I may never do so again. You destroyed what we'd built in Cedar Rapids, and then you turned on my mother when it was convenient to do so. If I were David, I wouldn't want you either. But that's besides the point. Maybe we'll help you, and maybe we won't…but I have a lot more influence here than I had back in Cedar Rapids, and I can guarantee that I will make your life as miserable as you made ours if you cross us again. Is this is any way unclear?"

Myrtle nodded miserably, picking up Emily Elaine and holding her close. "I don't blame you at all, Rose. If I were you, I would hate me, too." She walked to the door, then turned back, looking at Rose. "I'll be at the hotel until Saturday. After that…I don't know what I'll do."

She opened the door and walked out, leaving Rose staring after her.

Rose quietly closed the door after her, sitting down and burying her face in her hands. She didn't know what to do.

XXXXX

Rose was gone for the rest of the afternoon, going to a doctor's appointment and confirming that, in spite of her cold, her babies were fine and healthy. She returned home near sunset, driving the car that Thomas had surprised her with at Christmas. She had already learned how to drive his car, so the new vehicle allowed her to get around without getting a taxi or taking a train.

Thomas was already home when she returned. Giving her a hug, he took a fussy Andrew from her and took him upstairs while Rose called her mother.

Ruth picked up on the third ring. "Eagle Movie Studio Costume Department. Ruth speaking."

"Mother? It's Rose."

"Oh, hello, Rose. Is Myrtle gone?"

"Yes. She left about half an hour after you did."

"What did she want?"

"She says that she's sorry for what she did in Cedar Rapids."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"I don't trust her, either, Mother…but I don't think she'll be going back to Cedar Rapids anytime soon. Her marriage to David has turned sour."

"That doesn't surprise me. He was rather upset when he found out what she'd done."

"I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth, but…she's left him, Mother. She said that he'd lost his job at the mill and was drinking too much and taking things out on her and Emily Elaine."

"And you believe her?"

"Perhaps I'm being foolish, Mother—but for some reason, I do. There's just something about the way she was acting that told me that she's telling the truth. She was in tears."

"She may just be a very good actress, Rose."

"Yes, but…Mother, what should I do? If she's telling the truth, I can't leave her out in the cold. She has a young child and another on the way."

"She told you she's expecting a second baby?"

"She's telling the truth about that, Mother. I could see that her middle is starting to expand again."

"It's up to you, Rose. If you want to take the risk of getting involved with her again, knowing what she is and what she's capable of, that's your choice. But I won't help you."

"I understand, Mother. She turned on you, too. And I can't say that I'd help her—I want to talk to Thomas before I make any decisions. He is a lawyer, after all; he may be able to do something that I can't. But whatever happens, I won't drag you into it."

"Thank you, Rose." Ruth paused a moment. "Rose…I don't think I'll be coming by tonight after all. I need to finish up some work here, and I don't want to drop by late when you're not feeling well. Perhaps I can stop by tomorrow."

"Yes. Please do. Mother…you said you had some good news. Do you want to save it until then, or do you want to tell me now?"

"Well…" Ruth hesitated, but Rose could tell from her mother's tone of voice that she was just bursting with the news.

"What is it, Mother?"

"Harry has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted."

"He did?" Rose squealed in delight. "Oh, Mother, congratulations! As soon as I'm over this miserable cold, Thomas and I will take the two of you out to celebrate."

Ruth laughed. "Shouldn't you ask Thomas about that first?"

"Oh, he'll agree. Anyway, if he doesn't, _I'll_ take the two of you out. I have money, too, you know." She stopped, thinking of something. "Do you love him, Mother?"

"Yes, Rose, I do. I love him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone other than your father. He'll always have a place in my heart—but I've moved on with life."

"Mother, I'm so happy for you." Rose smiled as Thomas came into the room, giving him a quick kiss. "When is the wedding?"

"In June. That's the traditional time to get married. And Rose…I'd be pleased if you'd be my matron of honor."

"Of course I will, Mother. This is so exciting! I hope the two of you have a long and happy life together."

"I hope so, too, Rose."

They said good-bye quickly after that, and Rose turned to Thomas, giving him a real kiss.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Who's getting married?"

"Mother is. She's marrying her actor, Harry Phoenix. She's asked me to be her matron of honor."

"With this big belly?" Thomas patted her stomach affectionately.

"The wedding isn't until June, after the babies are born. I should have my figure back by then, or something close to it. Oh, and I told her we'd take her and Harry out to dinner to celebrate once I'm over this cold. I hope you don't mind."

"That's fine. Your mother has certainly changed since she came to Cedar Rapids. If I didn't know better, I'd be sure it wasn't the same person."

"Speaking of Cedar Rapids, Thomas…"

"I know. Myrtle was here. What did she want?"

"She needs our help." Rose could tell from looking at his face that he didn't like the idea. "Thomas, just hear me out. I don't trust her, either, and I really don't like her, but if she truly needs our help, I can't just leave her out in the cold. She has Emily Elaine to think of, and a new baby on the way."

"Then why isn't she home in Cedar Rapids with David?"

"She's left him." Rose quickly filled Thomas in on what Myrtle had told her. "For some reason, Thomas, I believe her. There's just something about this that makes me believe that she's telling the truth."

He sighed, not liking the idea of helping Myrtle. "Rose…I don't know about this. After what she did to us…"

"Isn't there something you could do if she tries to spread rumors again? Couldn't you sue her for slander or something?"

"We would have to prove it, and in the meantime…"

"I already told her that if she spreads any lies and rumors about us I would ruin her, just as she ruined us. And if she did spread lies, and we sued her for slander, couldn't we destroy her reputation, here and back in Cedar Rapids?"

"Rose…it never fails to amaze me how your mind works. You want to be friends with her again, but if it doesn't work, you want to use blackmail and slander to destroy her."

"I don't want to be her friend again, Thomas! I don't trust her, and I don't think I ever will. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she wound up on the streets with her children, especially when I knew about it. I don't like her, but I couldn't let harm come to her children…and you know how harsh life on the streets can be. We've both been there."

"I know. But…I just don't feel much compassion for her. She's caused her own problems."

"But her children had nothing to do with that. Emily Elaine is just a baby, and the other one isn't even born yet. They're not to blame."

"But they aren't our responsibility, either."

"No, but…I can't say that it's right to help her, after all that she did to us, but maybe we could talk to her, find out if there's anything we might do that wouldn't require us to be near her. I remember being on the streets, Thomas, and I feel badly for anyone who might wind up the same way—even if it is Myrtle."

Thomas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "All right, Rose. We'll talk to her…but I don't want to be close to her again, and I'd rather that we helped her leave than anything else."

"All right." Rose nodded her head. "Thomas, please try to understand…"

"I do understand, Rose. You have a soft heart, and compassion for those less fortunate. I remember how you tried to help Mattie…and I couldn't stand her, either. I'll see what can be done, Rose…but I won't make any promises."

XXXXX

Rose fell asleep soon after dinner, her cold making her more tired than usual. She and Thomas had avoided the topic of Myrtle after deciding to pay her a visit on Friday, and had talked around the issue, discussing other things. Rose had told him about her father, and about the financial scandal that had destroyed him and sent her on her way to the life she now lived. Thomas had been sympathetic—many members of his family felt the same way about money and status that Ruth once had, although they were middle class, and nowhere near so wealthy as the Bukaters had been.

Rose had sat in front of the fireplace with Thomas for a while, but her drooping eyes and head had soon led him to encourage her to go to bed. He had gone upstairs with her and tucked her in, promising to take care of Andrew if he awakened.

It wasn't long before Rose was sound asleep. She tossed and turned fitfully for a while, her misery from her cold and the long, difficult day conspiring to make her dreams unpleasant. After a time, though, she quieted, falling into a deeper sleep.

XXXXX

_Rose looked around in surprise as she found herself on the beach beside the Santa Monica Pier. She could see the roller coaster and hear the laughter and shouts of the people on the pier, but the beach itself was quiet. She looked around, smiling when she saw Jack coming towards her._

"_For someone who wasn't supposed to see me again until the time was right, we sure meet a lot," she joked, running over to him and throwing her arms around him._

"_Well, the original plan was for you and I to meet at the clock on Titanic when it was time for you to come to heaven permanently, but your life really keeps a guardian angel busy. I can't say how long we'll be able to keep meeting, but it will end one of these days."_

"_Not too soon, I hope."_

"_Rose, you're getting stronger all the time. You may not realize it in your day-to-day life, but you'll soon be able to live without me stepping in all the time."_

"_I'll miss you, though."_

"_I'll miss you, too. Remember, though, that it won't be forever. When the time comes, you'll meet me at the clock on Titanic."_

"_Will it be a long time?"_

_He hesitated. "Yes. You're going to live a long time, just like I told you. You're going to raise your babies, and watch them grow, and have plenty of grandchildren. You won't come here to stay until you're very old."_

"_And how long will it be…before you stop coming to see me?"_

"_I don't know, Rose. I've already come far more times than I was supposed to. But I think it will be soon. I'm getting less and less information to give to you—which means that you're more and more ready to face life without me."_

"_I love you, Jack. Whatever happens, I won't forget you."_

"_I won't forget you, either, and I'll always be watching over you, until that moment when you meet me at the clock."_

_He sank down to the sand, pulling Rose with him. Putting an arm around her, he told her what he had come to say. "Rose…there's some things I need to tell you."_

"_What?"_

"_First, about Myrtle…what she told you today was the truth. Her husband was abusing her and her daughter, and she did leave him. I can't tell you if things will ever work out between them, but I do know that she is truly ashamed for what she did to you and your family, and for what she did to your mother. I don't know if it has changed her as it changed your mother, but I do know what she feels now. I'm glad that you want to help her; it shows how much compassion you have. You're a good person, Rose, and the world would be a better place with more people like you._

"_I also have some things to tell you about the babies you're carrying. They're going to be beautiful, Rose. The boy is going to be the spitting image of Thomas, and the girl is going to look just like you, right down to the red curls and rosebud mouth. They're going to have long lives, too…they'll outlive you. And remember that you're very young now…not yet twenty…and you're going to live to be very old. That guarantees them a long life, especially your daughter. She will live as many years as you, and your son, one year less. They'll be around long after you've moved on._

"_There's one other thing." He hesitated. "It's about the war."_

"_What is it?" Rose looked at him, her eyes worried. She already knew that Thomas was going to go to war, but what else was going to happen?_

"_Something bad is going to happen. I wish I could tell you what it is, but I don't know myself. All I know is that you're going to survive, that you're going to be strong. It won't destroy you."_

"_But what about Thomas? Will he survive?"_

"_I don't know, Rose. I really don't. You're going to have to be strong, whatever it is, and keep making each day count."_

"_Jack, if you aren't going to be looking out for me anymore, maybe you could look out for Thomas, be his guardian angel during the war. You could warn him of things that are going to happen…"_

_Jack smiled sadly. "It doesn't quite work that way, Rose. I can watch him, and see what's happening, but there really isn't much else that I can do. Just remember that I'll always be there, Rose, always be watching you. No matter what happens, you're going to make it. I promise."_

"_Oh, Jack…"_

"_Life is full of surprises, Rose, and no one can tell for sure what's going to happen in the future but God. And maybe not even Him. All I can tell you is that you have to make the most of every minute, make each day count. You've done a good job so far, but you have to keep going. That's what life is all about—living. You'll be all right, no matter what happens. I know you, Rose, and you won't break your promise."_

"_No, I won't." Rose lifted tear-filled eyes to meet his. "Oh, Jack…"_

_He embraced her one more time, then pulled back._

"_It's time for you to go back now, Rose. Until we meet again."_

XXXXX

Rose clung to him as he faded away and a new image imposed itself—the ceiling of her bedroom. She found herself lying beside Thomas, his arms around her.

She cuddled closer, thinking about what Jack had said. She could lose Thomas, and she knew it…but there was no telling if it would happen. Something bad would happen, Jack had said, but that could be any number of things. Even mild things could be bad at first.

And whatever happened, life would go on and she would survive. She would live out her life making each day count. Somehow, this thought filled her with hope, and she took Thomas's hands in hers, feeling better than she had in a long time.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Myrtle sat nervously in the Calverts' sitting room. Emily Elaine sat beside her, fidgeting restlessly and longing to get down and play beside Andrew, who had several stuffed toys scattered on the floor beside him. His nose was running from the remnants of his cold, but the tiny girl didn't notice. All she saw were the toys and the little boy playing with them.

Rose settled herself awkwardly into a chair across from Myrtle after setting down a tray of tea things. Emily Elaine and Andrew both noticed, Andrew toddling up and reaching for a cookie, while Emily Elaine strained to reach the tray from her place on the couch, almost falling off.

Myrtle set her daughter on the floor and handed her a cookie, looking apologetically at Rose. There was very little money left—they had been living in a shelter for the past two days—and not nearly enough food. Emily Elaine took the cookie eagerly and chewed on it, taking advantage of her position on the floor to toddle towards the toys scattered on the rug.

Rose watched Myrtle hand a second cookie to her daughter, but didn't say anything. She knew how hard it was to survive on the streets, and if nothing else, Myrtle was a good mother. She would do what it took to keep her child fed.

Rose handed Myrtle a cup of tea and poured one for herself, sitting back in the overstuffed chair and taking a few sips before getting to the business at hand. Setting her cup on the little table beside the chair, she took a deep breath and looked at Myrtle.

Myrtle was twisting the fabric of her shawl nervously in her hands. Looking up at Rose, she started, "Rose, thank you for inviting me. I know I did a terrible thing back in Cedar Rapids, spreading those rumors about you—"

Rose put up a hand to stop her. "Myrtle, that's in the past. I've decided to give you a second chance."

Myrtle's eyes widened. "You have? Oh, Rose…you're very kind. But why? I wouldn't have given myself a second chance…"

Rose smiled slightly. "Let's just say that my…instincts have led me to believe that you should be given a second chance. And, after all, I do know what it's like to live on the streets or in a shelter, at the mercy of any little thing that happens…and you have a little girl, and another baby on the way. I couldn't leave them to starve, not when I have the means to help them."

She paused, considering what to say. "Thomas and I have talked it over, and we have decided to help you get back on your feet. I don't know if you'll ever go back to your husband, or even want to. That isn't the point. The point is that you are in a bad situation now, and we have decided to help you—if you'll accept our help."

Myrtle sat back, thinking. She had always been taught that relying upon someone else was wrong, unless it was her parents or her husband. Her parents believed very strongly in self-sufficiency, no matter what happened. But she was in dire straits now, and her children would suffer if she didn't find some way to take care of them. Emily Elaine was always hungry, and the little one inside her wasn't growing as fast as it should have been—and she was afraid she might lose it.

But she had always had a lot of pride—she was willing to face almost anything for the sake of it. Her pride had not allowed her to accept that anything was wrong in her marriage until David had struck Emily Elaine for something the toddler couldn't help. It was only then, for the sake of her daughter, that she had left. And although she knew that she needed help now, her pride still held her back. She had never wanted to accept charity, and she would accept only as much as she had to.

Setting her cup down, she inquired, "What kind of help?"

"Thomas found a two-room apartment for rent near his workplace. We reserved it in hopes that you would take it. It's nothing fancy, but better than that shelter you're living in, and much more secure, too. There are plenty of businesses nearby, too—offices, stores, factories—so you'll be able to look for a job."

Myrtle looked down. "Rose, I appreciate your offer—really I do—but I can't afford to move into any apartment now. I don't have a job, and I have only enough money left to feed Emily Elaine for another couple of days. After that, I don't know what I'll do."

"We'll pay the first month's rent for you, and buy groceries so that you and Emily Elaine can eat properly." When Myrtle opened her mouth to object, Rose added, "You can't go without food. You're carrying a baby, and starving yourself can kill it. It could kill you, too—and then what would happen to Emily Elaine?"

Myrtle glanced up at Rose, then looked down at her swollen middle. "I don't know, Rose. I've been trying not to think about it."

"Well, think about it." Rose's voice took on a harsh edge. "David doesn't know where you are, so he couldn't come for her if anything happened to you, and the man who runs the shelter you've been staying in can't be relied upon to send her to us, or even to an orphanage. God only knows what would happen to her if something happened to you." She leaned forward, her voice softening. "Myrtle, I know you don't like to take charity, but there are times when it is necessary. For your children's sake, take it now."

"I…I…Rose…" Myrtle paused, taking a deep breath. "All right. I will take it—this once, anyway. But I won't allow it to be charity…somehow, I'll pay you back, no matter how long it takes."

"Don't worry about it."

"I do worry about it, Rose. I did some awful things to you back in Cedar Rapids, and to your mother—and I won't allow myself to take advantage of you. I _will_ pay you back, no matter what."

Rose nodded finally. "All right, Myrtle. You can pay us back when you can. In the meantime, though, I suggest you start looking for a job."

"I have been looking for one, actually." Myrtle looked down, her face flushing with embarrassment. "I don't know many people here, and I was always a housewife, but I thought that if you, who had an even more sheltered upbringing than me, could make it as an actress, so could I." She looked up at Rose. "It wasn't as easy as I'd thought. Most studios wouldn't even let me in the gate, and there are so many women who want to be actresses—and they didn't have a child in their arms or a baby on the way." She shook her head. "How did you do it, Rose?"

"With a lot of patience, perseverance, and luck. I started out by signing up as a film extra—you know, those people you see in the background. Thomas' sister, Lora, helped too. She's a nurse, you see, who works near one of the studios, and she's met some people who were willing to give me a chance."

Myrtle gave Rose a hopeful look. "You know some people now, too, Rose."

Rose sat back. She was willing to give Myrtle a second chance, but she wasn't willing to simply invite her into the world she had become a part of. Myrtle might have changed, but Rose didn't want to take any chances. She had worked too hard to get where she was.

"I suggest you try working as an extra first. There's always plenty of demand for them, and you can sign up at an agency instead of trying to talk your way into the studios. You're right, they are very hard to get into—a lot of them are trying to protect their actors and their work from outsiders. Besides, acting is a lot of work—it takes a lot of work to make those moving pictures look so effortless. It sometimes requires long days, odd hours, multiple takes, towering egos, people like Sylvia…" Rose trailed off, a faint smile brightening her face. "It's better to start out at the bottom and work your way up. That way, if it turns out that it isn't what you want to do, you can always get out and try something else."

Myrtle nodded, considering Rose's words. "Do you think they'll mind the fact that I'm in the family way? Or that I have to bring Emily Elaine with me everywhere because I have no one to watch her?"

"That depends upon who you're working with. Sometimes little babies wind up in motion pictures, too—and she is cute. You might try signing her up as an extra, too—with the understanding that she work only with you or someone you trust. She's too little to watch out for herself. As to your being in the family way—it would depend upon the picture and the director. Some won't allow it, but others will. Some feel that it's immoral for a woman expecting a child to be in a moving picture—it might give the children ideas, and some pictures just don't have a place for that. Others will allow it. And if you're in a crowd scene, or a scene where your belly doesn't show, it might be different. Besides, you won't carry your baby forever, and if you can't find work as an extra now, there are other jobs you might do. Maybe not jobs where you'd be in the public eye, but there are jobs where people won't often see you—and in a city that is growing like this one is, you should be able to find something. If not, Thomas and I will help you out until the baby is born, and then you can find work and pay us back when you have a little extra money. And if you wind up going back to Cedar Rapids, or can't pay us back, don't worry about it. There are other things you can do to pay us back, too—like watch Andrew and the twins, once they're born, when Thomas and I want some time to ourselves."

"Rose, I…"

"And while you're looking for work, I'll watch Emily Elaine. Unless you're signing her up as an extra, or she's working as one, there's no reason for her to accompany her you. You might do better if you didn't have her with you—especially when she gets tired and fussy."

Myrtle shook her head. "Oh, no. You've done enough for me already. I don't want to impose…"

"It wouldn't be an imposition. Andrew needs to learn to play with other children, and see how well they're getting along?" Rose gestured to the two toddlers, who were each playing with a stuffed toy and ignoring each other.

"Well, they're not screaming, anyway," Myrtle remarked, drawing a smile from Rose.

"It's a good start, wouldn't you say? Remember when we wanted to play matchmaker between them?"

Myrtle laughed. "I remember. They weren't even born yet."

"Maybe our old plans will come to something after all."

Myrtle looked at Emily Elaine, who was chewing on her toy and drooling. "Well…maybe." She sobered. "Rose…the new baby isn't due for three months yet. Can you really afford to help me for that long if I can't find work? After all, your babies should come soon, and you'll have the doctor's bills to pay and the babies to provide for."

"Thomas is doing very well as a lawyer, and although I'm not working at the moment, I have a picture to finish when I'm done, and since I'm under contract, more pictures after that. I'm making good money, too."

"If you're sure…"

"We are. In spite of what you did in the past, we're willing to forgive you and give you a second chance."

XXXXX

On February fourteenth, Myrtle strode up the walk the Calverts' home, her step light in spite of her advancing pregnancy. She was a week shy of seven months along now, and the good food and decent shelter she had been enjoying had reversed the baby's frightening lack of growth. As if making up for lost time, the baby was growing quickly inside her now, kicking constantly and letting her know that it was alive and well. Rose had gotten her an appointment with her own doctor, who had assured her that everything was going well. But that wasn't why she was so happy today.

After three weeks of looking for work, not only as a movie extra but also as a shop girl, a factory worker, a maid, and a secretary, she had finally found work. And it was in the field she had wanted to try—acting. She had gone to yet another agency that hired film extras, only to be met with the usual response—she wasn't needed, not with her in the family way, and why didn't she let her husband take care of her, or didn't she have one?

Myrtle had heard that reaction over and over, and thought that she should be used to it by now, but it still hurt every time. Why couldn't they at least give her a chance? She was capable of working, and as to where her husband was—that was none of their business. Considering what she had learned of the mores of some people in Hollywood, she thought that the question was more than rude—it was hypocritical. She had begun to argue with him when a director from the studio he represented had walked in and, completely ignoring her, had begun to upbraid the man for not finding the extras he needed for his new hospital picture.

When he had caught sight of Myrtle, he had yelled even more loudly, complaining that he needed at least a dozen women like her, and asking why all these extras hadn't found, when there were so many looking for work. The hiring manager had responded haughtily that he wasn't going to help these women in their immorality and that they needed to stay home and let their husbands take care of them. The director had grabbed the hiring form and turned to Myrtle, asking for her name and telling her to be at Eagle Movie Studio at seven o'clock the next morning if she wanted to work.

Myrtle had been flabbergasted; the hiring manager had been outraged, but he hadn't dared to contradict the director, who had considerably more power than him. And so Myrtle was now an extra for Eagle Movie Studio.

She knocked on the front door of the house, hearing a delighted squeal from the other side. Emily Elaine had been waiting for her. She sighed, wishing that she could have signed her daughter up as an extra, too, but she hadn't wanted to push her luck. Perhaps, if things worked out, she could get Emily Elaine in later, or maybe Rose could put in a good word for her.

A moment later, Rose opened the door, her huge middle preceding her. Andrew clung to her legs, almost tripping her, and Emily Elaine tried to run towards her mother on her baby legs, falling and almost pulling down her mother's skirt at the last minute.

Myrtle scooped her daughter up into her arms, hitching up her skirt, while Rose awkwardly disentangled Andrew from her legs and set him on her shoulders, the easiest way she had found of carrying him with her pregnancy so advanced.

Myrtle stared at her. Rose often looked like she'd spent the day playing with the children, wearing loose, casual clothing with mud, ink, or paint splattering the colorful garments, but today she looked like she'd been caught in a whirlwind. And since it was beautiful, sunny February day, Myrtle couldn't imagine why.

Rose finished setting Andrew on her shoulders, breathing harder than usual and bending forward a little as she did so. Her face was flushed, and the hair around her face was limp and damp with sweat.

"Rose, are you okay? You look like you've had a long day."

"Very long," Rose responded. "Eight hours now of babies, babies, and more babies." Myrtle gave her a confused look, so Rose went on. "I went into labor not long after Thomas left and you dropped off Emily Elaine. I tried to call Thomas, but he was in court today instead of at his office, so I couldn't get a message to him. I called the doctor, but he said to wait until I couldn't walk or talk during pains—and I've reached that point now. I'm tired and I have a long night ahead of me, so, since you wanted to pay us back for helping you out, you can start now. Please call the doctor—the number is by the telephone—and sit with me until he comes. You know as much about childbirth as I do. Then, you can stay for dinner and watch Andrew until the babies come. Thomas will be home in about an hour, but I think I need the doctor now. If you help me, I think it'll pay off about a week of my watching Emily Elaine."

"Oh, surely it won't be that much—"

"Myrtle!" Rose hissed. "Go call the doctor! Now! And please take Andrew. I'm afraid I'm going to drop him."

Myrtle looked startled, but did as Rose asked. While she made the call, Rose made her way up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Thomas, laying down on the bed without bothering to change her clothes. Her belly clenched in another contraction, and she curled up against it, wishing that Thomas would hurry and get home, that the doctor would come quickly, and that Myrtle would get off the telephone and come to sit with her. She still didn't fully trust Myrtle, but didn't want to be alone at this time.

Myrtle had just knocked on the door and quietly stuck her head in when Rose groaned in misery, half sitting up and clutching her middle. She felt something give way inside her, and gush of fluid rushed forth, soaking her skirt, undergarments, and the quilt beneath. Rose groaned again. Now she would have to wash the quilt.

"Rose!" Myrtle came in, her eyes wide at the sight of Rose's red face and soaked clothing. She rushed over to the bed. "You should have changed before you lay down. You can't have the babies dressed like that."

"I don't want to move." Rose lay back against her pillow, waiting for the next contraction.

"I know the feeling, but still…where do you keep your nightgowns?"

"In the second drawer of the dresser. But I just want you to sit with me, not baby me."

Myrtle didn't listen. "The doctor is on his way. He's leaving the rest of his appointments to the nurse-midwife today." She pulled a full, loose nightgown from the drawer and came over to the bed, helping a protesting Rose up. Once Rose's clothes were changed, she stripped the quilt off the bed and helped Rose under the sheet, pulling it up over her.

"I'll wash these things for you," she told her, "and Andrew's diapers." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That ought to be enough to pay off that doctor's visit."

Rose, caught in the throes of another contraction, could only nod, concentrating harder upon the work her body was doing than on Myrtle's bargaining.

She jumped in surprise as Myrtle squealed, her eyes lighting up. As the contraction eased, she opened her eyes and glared at her. "What?"

"I have some wonderful news, Rose—absolutely wonderful."

"You've discovered a painless way to give birth?"

"No, but I did find a job."

Myrtle's joy was contagious. "You did?" Rose grinned, pleased. "Where?"

"As an extra with Eagle Movie Studio!"

"Eagle Movie Studio?" Rose's expression immediately grew wary. She didn't know if she could trust Myrtle in the same studio as herself—especially not an ambitious Myrtle.

Myrtle stopped, seeing the look on Rose's face. "I won't say anything, Rose. I promise. I won't say a word against you or your family. I'm only there to act—not to make trouble."

"You'd better not." Rose pushed herself up on her elbows. "Or so help me God, it won't be my reputation that's ruined this time. If you even try to ruin my career, or my mother's, I'll tell everyone about how you left David, and about what you did back in Cedar Rapids. They know me better than they know you…and I have more power here than you."

Myrtle's eyes narrowed angrily, but she understood where Rose was coming from. "I won't say a word, Rose. I promise. I…I'd like us to be friends again, someday…if that's even possible."

"I can't make you any promises, Myrtle." Rose paused, laying back as an another contraction ripped through her. When it ended, she asked, "Where are the children?"

"They're in Andrew's room, playing. They're fine, Rose."

She sat beside Rose a little longer, telling her about how she had gotten the job as an extra, until a knock sounded on the front door, startling them both.

Myrtle jumped up. "That must be the doctor." She rushed from the room before Rose could stop her, hurrying down the stairs and to the front door.

Throwing it open, she greeted the doctor, leading him inside out of the chilly winter night and up the stairs to Rose.

"I'm taking the children downstairs now, Rose," she told her. "They're too young to hear this. If what your mother said was true, you don't take childbirth quietly."

Rose grimaced. Ruth had told a lot of lies about her back in Cedar Rapids, but she had been telling the truth about the way Rose gave birth—loudly.

"Yes, take them downstairs and give them something to eat. When it's time for them to go to sleep, there's a spare room downstairs—Thomas will show you where—with a bed. You can put them there. If Emily Elaine needs extra diapers, she can use Andrew's."

"All right, Rose." Myrtle turned to leave. "If you need anything, just let me know."

XXXXX

It was past six o'clock when Thomas came home, rushing in the door and shaking out his umbrella, wet from the rain that had begun to fall. He stopped in surprise when he saw Myrtle there, rocking Andrew and Emily Elaine in her arms.

"Myrtle, what are you doing here? Where's Rose?"

His questions were answered as a loud spate of angry words came from upstairs. Dropping his umbrella and briefcase, he ran up the stairs, barging into the bedroom without knocking. Rose was pulling her nightgown back down over her legs and glaring at the doctor. Obviously, she had objected to his examination of her.

"Rose?" Thomas approached her, only to have her grab the alarm clock from beside the bed and fling it at him, narrowly missing. The clock smashed into the wall and fell to the ground, broken. "Rose!"

"Go away!" she snapped. "I want both of you to leave."

"Rose, what's wrong?" Thomas approached her cautiously, afraid she would throw something else at him.

"I hate you! If you'd kept your hands to yourself, I wouldn't be here now! And he's just as bad—sticking those freezing instruments into my sore, tender parts—"

"Mrs. Calvert, please calm down…"

"I'm not the one who needs to calm down!"

The doctor looked at Thomas, obviously trying to be patient. "Don't worry, Mr. Calvert. Women are often like this at this stage of childbirth—"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

"Mrs. Calvert…"

"Go away!" Rose's face screwed up as another contraction began, clutching her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," she whimpered around the pain. "I didn't mean it. Stay. Stay and watch your children be born."

The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Calvert, I think it would be best if you left."

"No!" Rose cried. Sitting up, she glowered at the doctor. "Let him stay, you—"

Thomas put a hand over her mouth before she could call the doctor a foul name. He quickly drew it back when she sank her teeth into one of his fingers.

"Fine! Leave! See if I care! I'm doing all the work anyway! You stupid men—you have all the fun, and we have all the pain!"

Thomas stepped back, clutching his bitten finger and looking at her as though she had grown two heads. "I'll be back up as soon as the babies are born," he promised her. "Presumably you'll be in a better mood by then."

Rose stared at him as though she didn't know whether to insist that he stay or he leave. Quickly, he turned on his heel and walked out before she could get upset again.

XXXXX

Thomas sat at the table in the kitchen across from Myrtle, eating dinner and feeding Andrew. Feeding both babies at once was more than Myrtle could handle, especially since both cried when they heard a noise from upstairs—which fortunately wasn't very often this time.

He looked up when a knock sounded on the front door. Sighing, he got to his feet, wondering who could be at the door in this weather. Something nagged at the back of his mind as he went to answer it, but he couldn't remember what it was at the moment.

He remembered as soon as he saw Ruth and Harry at the door. He and Rose had promised to take them to dinner tonight. In all the confusion, he had forgotten.

He led them inside, closing the door behind them. Ruth had her arms crossed and was glaring at him.

"We showed up at the restaurant and waited for you, but neither of you ever showed up," she told him accusatorily. "We ended up having a nice dinner by ourselves, but this was supposed to be all of us."

Thomas shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ruth," he told her. "In all the confusion here, it completely slipped my mind, and Rose is in no condition to go out to dinner tonight anyway."

Ruth's eyes immediately grew concerned. "What's wrong? Is she sick again? I worry about her, expecting twins and taking care of Andrew all day, too. She really should have some help."

She stopped as she caught sight of Myrtle coming from the kitchen, both children balanced on her hips. Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "What is _she_ doing here?"

Thomas sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having to explain Myrtle's presence to Ruth. "She left her husband after he began hitting her and her daughter. Rose and I have been helping her get back on her feet."

"You'd actually trust her again?"

"We trusted you, didn't we?"

Ruth's mouth tightened angrily as she stared at Myrtle. Myrtle stared back for a moment, then tossed her head, setting the toddlers on the floor and focusing her attention on them.

At that moment, a high-pitched shriek of pain sounded from upstairs. Ruth turned, staring up the stairs.

"Is that Rose? What's wrong with her?"

"She's having the babies, and, if you'll recall from when Andrew was born, she doesn't take childbirth quietly."

"She sounds like she's dying!"

"Oh, I wouldn't think so," Thomas told her dryly. He held up his bandaged finger. "She's as strong as the proverbial horse, and twice as mad."

Ruth just gave him a disbelieving look and charged up the stairs, determined to see if her daughter was really all right.

XXXXX

Rose looked up as someone threw the door open and rushed into the room, pushing the doctor aside to see her. "Mother!" she cried. "What are you doing here?" Then she remembered that they had been supposed to go out to dinner that night. "Oh, Mother, I'm sorry. I forgot all about dinner."

"Don't worry about it, Rose. These babies are far more important than dinner."

The doctor nudged Ruth aside. "Excuse me, ma'am," he told her, "but she's about ready to deliver, and unless you plan on catching the baby yourself, I'd suggest you move."

Ruth moved aside quickly, but didn't leave. "Rose, darling, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mother. I can feel the babies coming—hopefully only one at a time." She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, bearing down. "Mother, I'm so embarrassed. I told Thomas that I hated him, and then I bit him. Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

"I'm sure he will, darling. He's smart enough to know better than to take what you say seriously while you're giving birth."

"But I bit him, too."

Ruth just shook her head. "You aren't any better at childbirth than I was. When you were born, I slapped the doctor for touching my private parts, even though he had to, because you were turned wrong and got stuck, and then I called your father a word that I'd heard the gardener use in reference to a tree branch that had fallen on him. Fortunately, your father wasn't in the room to hear me."

Rose giggled a little in spite of herself. "Thomas did hear me yell at him, but the doctor told him that women in labor often act that."

"You see? I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"I hope so." Rose arched her back, a scream ripping from her throat. "Mother, it hurts…"

"I know, dear. But they'll be born soon, and then you'll feel better."

"I hate giving birth!"

"I know, but it's the only way to get these darling babies."

"I hope that someday they invent a way to make childbirth painless."

"There is a way, dear. It's called ether."

"Ugh." Rose leaned forward, pushing. "Oh…oh…oh!" She shrieked again, then tried to close her legs as the doctor put his hands between them. "Stop!"

"You're almost there, Mrs. Calvert. I can see the head."

Rose bore down again, her pain-filled shriek abruptly cut off by the wail of a newborn baby.

"It's a girl," the doctor announced, clearing the baby's mouth and nose. He tied off and cut the umbilical cord, then wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed her to Ruth.

Rose reached for the baby, only to be stopped by another contraction. "Dammit!" she cried. "Haven't I done enough of this?"

"It's twins, Mrs. Calvert," the doctor reminded her, reaching down again as the head of the second baby appeared. In minutes, the second infant lay in the doctor's hands, squalling as furiously as his sister.

This time the doctor allowed Rose to take the baby. Ruth lay the first infant in Rose's arms, then knelt down beside her daughter as Rose greeted her newborns.

"Hello, little ones," she whispered. She touched the girl's tiny head. Just as Jack had said, she had thin red hair and rosebud lips.

Ruth looked admiringly at the newborns. "Congratulations, Rose," she told her. "Your daughter looks just like you, and your son looks like Thomas."

"They're beautiful," Rose replied, cuddling her babies close and kissing each one, unmindful of the fact that they were still a mess from the birth.

"As soon as you and the babies are cleaned up, your husband can come up to see them," the doctor said, pressing down on Rose's stomach to help her bring forth the afterbirths.

"I'll go tell him," Ruth promised, giving her exhausted daughter a kiss on the forehead and getting to her feet.

"Thank you, Mother."

As soon as Ruth had left the room, Rose cuddled the babies closer, whispering to each of them.

"Hello, Lora Jacquelyn. I'm glad to have you back. And hello, baby Jack. You're named in honor of one of the best men I ever knew."

XXXXX

Rose lay beside Thomas, comfortably asleep. The babies slept in their cradles nearby, wrapped securely against the winter chill. As Ruth had predicted, Thomas had forgiven her for her appalling behavior while she was in labor, though she still felt guilty for biting him. Ruth and Harry had gone home after the excitement was over, but Myrtle had been so tired that she had chosen to stay with Emily Elaine in the spare bedroom, while Andrew had been brought upstairs and allowed to meet his new sister and brother before being put to bed in his crib.

Rose opened her eyes slowly as she felt a warm hand clasp hers. Sitting up, she gasped in surprise at the sight of Jack.

"Jack, what…?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid of awakening the others. Jack pulled her hand from over her mouth and gave her a quick kiss.

"They won't wake up," he assured her. "No one in this house but you will awaken until I'm gone."

"Jack…the babies are here."

He smiled. "I know. I looked at them before I woke you. Jacquelyn's spirit is definitely in Lora, Rose, and she looks just like her, but big enough to survive. And Jack…I'm flattered that you named him after me."

"He doesn't look much like you, though."

"It doesn't matter. He'll grow up to be a great man, Rose. How could any child of yours be otherwise?"

Rose got out of bed, walking beside him to the cradles to look at the sleeping babies. She touched the tiny fists gently, smiling as they clutched her fingers. Jack stroked Lora's head gently, then took a tiny fist in his hand, smiling gently and a little sadly.

"Her soul recognizes yours, Jack," Rose told him.

"She's beautiful, Rose…as beautiful as you. I was watching when they were born."

Rose gave him an embarrassed look. "You saw…"

"I saw you bite your husband, yes, and scream at him. He's forgiven you, though."

"I shouldn't have done that."

"You just don't enjoy giving birth. Had I been your husband, you would have reacted the same way to me. In fact," he told her, a glint of humor in his eyes, "I'm glad I wasn't the one trying to quiet you. Even a ghost doesn't want to approach you when you're in labor."

"Oh…you!" Rose punched him playfully in the arm. Jack gave her a look of mock hurt.

"See what I mean?"

Rose laughed, leaning back into his embrace as they looked at the babies together. Jack's expression grew serious.

"Rose…"

"Yes?"

"There's a reason why I came here tonight, instead of you coming to me in your dreams." He paused, taking a deep breath. "This is the last time I'll visit you. You don't need me anymore—not in this lifetime."

"Jack, no. I'll always need you…"

He shook his head sadly. "No, you won't. It's like I said three years ago—you're strong, and you've got a fire inside that'll keep you going throughout your life."

Rose turned to look at him, her eyes filled with tears. "So this is the last time we'll meet?"

He nodded. "Yes…at least in this lifetime. You have a long life ahead of you, Rose, full of love and joy and friendship. I won't forget you. When the time comes for you to join me, I'll be waiting. And after that…we'll never be parted again."

Rose wiped her eyes, trying not to cry but not looking forward to an entire lifetime without him. "I'll miss you, Jack."

He pulled her close. "And I'll miss you, too. I love you, Rose. I'm sorry I never told you so when I was alive, but it's always been true. From the moment I first saw you, I've loved you—and I always will." His voice broke, and Rose looked up in surprise to see a tear slide down his cheek.

"I won't forget you, either, Jack," she promised. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you. And I'll always keep my promise, too—you can count on that."

"I know." He took her hand, leading her back to her bed and her sleeping husband. "I have to go now, Rose, but I'll always be watching over you. Always remember that, no matter what happens."

"I won't forget," Rose promised. She turned to him as she reached the bed, embracing him once more. "Oh, Jack…"

He pulled her close, kissing her as he had that night on the bow. Rose returned the kiss, knowing that this would be the last time, and that the memory of it would have to last her a lifetime.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered as the kiss ended. "Never forget that. I love you."

"I know, Rose. And I'll hold that close to my heart until the day we're finally reunited. I love you, Rose…forever."

He helped her back into bed, tucking the covers around her warmly. "Until forever, Rose," he whispered, starting to fade away.

"Jack, no!" she cried, reaching out towards him. "Don't go yet! I'm not ready…"

But he was gone, leaving only empty air where he had been a moment before.

"Good-bye, Jack," she whispered brokenly, burying her head in her pillow to stanch her tears. "I love you. I always will."

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the old grief wash over her again. "I love you," she whispered again.

Thomas stirred beside her, wrapping his arms around her gently. "I love you, too," he whispered, pulling her close.

Rose clung to him. He didn't know who she'd been talking to, and she didn't bother to correct him.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

It was a long time before Rose's renewed grief over Jack began to fade. Though she tried to hide it, it was difficult, especially in the beginning, when the grief was new and raw.

Thomas was bewildered and concerned over his wife's sadness following the birth of the twins, but Lora, unaware of the real reason for Rose's sorrow, assured him that many women became sad and depressed following the birth of a child. Ruth and Myrtle agreed, and Thomas reluctantly accepted their word, though it puzzled him that Rose felt such sorrow now when she had been perfectly normal following Andrew's birth.

It seemed to Rose that her grief would go on forever, and there was no one she could share it with. She didn't even dare to whisper it to her babies, for fear that somehow one of them would remember what she had said, though it was unlikely. After a time, she grew more adept at hiding it, knowing that it distressed her loved ones to see her so sad, especially when none of them knew the reason why.

Though it seemed as though her grief would never end, after a time, it slowly but surely began to lift. Jack was gone from her, but not forever—hadn't he promised her that when she passed away, far in the future, he would be waiting for her? And her little Jacquelyn had been returned to her in the body of another child, one who was strong and healthy and would live a long, long time.

Much of what Jack had spoken to her about came true in the months that followed. Ruth truly had changed this time. She did not try to control Rose, or try to run her life. She accepted Rose's child-rearing decisions, although she was still more than happy to offer advice, wanted or not, and she treasured the time she spent with her grandchildren. Even after she married Harry in June of 1915, she continued to work at Eagle Movie Studio, often going to lunch with Rose or watching her on the set if she had nothing else to do.

Myrtle, too, had changed, although Rose still didn't fully trust her. True to her word, she hadn't spoken against Rose at the movie studio, or anywhere else. When she spoke of her at all, it was to say complimentary things—and her compliments were genuine. The Calverts had helped her when she had desperately needed it, and she wouldn't repay their kindness by slandering their good name. She had learned her lesson about gossip and lies and the hurt they could cause, and, after her son was born early in April, she took advantage of her temporary inability to work by watching the Calvert children while Rose was at work. Andrew and Emily Elaine were becoming fast friends, squealing with delight when they saw each other, and whether their mothers liked it or not, they were pushed together for the sake of their children.

For Rose, Jack's final appearance had changed her, too. She had done her best to make each day count since Jack's death, but now she took those words more seriously than ever, realizing that she couldn't really predict what the future would hold, and that each moment was precious. She showered her husband and children with love and affection, put her heart into her acting, and treated life as a precious gift.

But for all that Rose put her heart into the living of each day, she couldn't forget what Jack had told her about the war, and as the months passed, and the news from across the Atlantic grew worse, her worries grew.

XXXXX

The United States entered World War I on April 6, 1917, and a law was passed requiring that all men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty register for the Selective Service, better known as the draft. Rose opposed the idea, knowing the problems that the draft had caused the first time it was used in America, but there really wasn't anything she could do. Women could vote in California, but no one had asked the voters, male or female, what they thought of the new law. It had simply been passed.

Rose also knew that it had been inevitable. She had known that this moment would come, and once it did, she knew that she had to live with it and learn to accept it. She knew, as well, that Thomas would be called to serve, and that something bad would happen to him within the course of the war, though she didn't know what.

When the draft notice came in August of 1917, Rose had just returned home after a long day at the studio. Thomas had gotten home earlier, and was playing with four-year-old Andrew and the two-and-a half-year-old twins in the sitting room. Toys were scattered everywhere, and the three children shrieked in delight as they cavorted around their father.

Rose was putting her purse away when she heard the doorbell ring, startling her out of her reverie. For some reason, she had been daydreaming about Jack that day, remembering both their time together on the ship and the times that he had visited her dreams after his death.

For some inexplicable reason, the familiar chimes of the doorbell sent a chill down Rose's back. It was a sound that she had heard many times before, one that usually meant the arrival of friends or her mother, or at worst, a traveling salesman. Now, for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, the sound filled her with dread.

She reached the door just after Thomas did, and watched as a uniformed delivery boy handed him a telegram. He took it and gave the boy a tip, holding the note out of the way of little Lora's eager hands as she sat on his shoulders.

Rose looked at the telegram with dread. Thomas rarely received such messages at home, preferring instead to have telegrams relating to his work delivered to his office, and she saw no reason for one to be delivered now.

Trembling, she took Lora from Thomas and sat down on the couch beside him, absently pulling Jack into her lap as well when he begged to get up. Andrew climbed up on the couch beside them, wondering what all the excitement was about.

Thomas opened the telegram slowly, looking with concern at Rose. He had rarely seen her so agitated. As he tore it open, Rose clutched the twins tighter, holding on until they squirmed in protest.

His look of resignation told Rose all she needed to know. Snatching the telegram from his hands, she read it, her eyes filling with tears.

"Thomas—you've been drafted!" she wailed, dropping the telegram. "Why did this have to happen? Why?"

Thomas shook his head. "Rose, it's a draft notice, not a death sentence."

"It might as well be," she sobbed. She couldn't tell him what Jack had said—he'd never believe her—but now that the notice had arrived, she could only imagine the worst.

"Rose, come on. Calm down. I don't even have to report for a month yet, and then it'll be at least six weeks before I go overseas—if I'm even sent over there. I'm a lawyer—they might have use for me right here in the United States. Who knows, the war might even end before then."

Rose tried to calm herself, to no avail. Something was going to happen, and she knew it. It was inevitable.

"I don't want to lose you!" she wailed. "I've lost too much already!"

Thomas pulled her into his arms, along with the twins, who were now crying also. "Rose, nothing's going to happen to me. I'll be back. I promise."

Rose shook her head, holding him tightly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Thomas," she told him. "Just promise me that you won't take any unnecessary chances. Don't try to be a hero. Your staying alive is as much as any of us needs."

Thomas rocked her gently. "Like you said, Rose, I shouldn't make promises I can't keep. If someone needs me, I'm going to help them. You know that I couldn't do otherwise."

Rose knew, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Thomas could die helping some stranger far from home, someone who might never consider doing the same for him. She might never see him again, might raise their children without him. She didn't want to think about it, but knew that the possibility was there.

XXXXX

One month later, Thomas left for basic training. Rose and the children accompanied him to the train station, along with Ruth, who had grown attached to her son-in-law and was almost as concerned for him as Rose was.

Rose clung to him, weeping quietly, as the warning whistle blew from the train. Around them, others hurried toward the train, mostly men who had been called off to war. As Thomas tried to step away, Rose hugged him tighter, refusing to let go.

"Don't go," she whispered brokenly, her hands clutching his arms as though to pull him away with her. "You don't have to."

"I do have to, Rose," Thomas told her, kissing the top of her head. "The law says—"

"Damn the law! I want you to stay!"

"Rose, I can't. We both know that." Her embraced her, then pulled away. "You're going to be fine. You're going to take care of the children, and make more pictures while I'm gone. When I return, I expect to see you in one or two new movies. Just think about the future, when I'm home again. It won't be forever."

Rose gulped, trying valiantly to stop her tears. "Take care of yourself, Thomas. Don't do anything stupid. You're already all the hero any of us needs."

"I love you, Rose, and I'll miss you and the children. I've only been drafted for two years—if the war even lasts that long. It's already been over three years since it began—how much longer can it really go on? And if some people are to be believed, this will be the last war."

"The last war? Perhaps if a way is found to destroy the whole world—but there isn't anything that can do that, thank God," Rose whispered, her voice still breaking in the occasional sob.

"No, there isn't. And I _will_ be back, Rose," Thomas whispered back, kissing her once more before he stepped away and headed for the train.

"Yes, you'll be back," Rose murmured. "I only hope that it's alive."

XXXXX

Thomas wrote to Rose as soon as he reached the training center near San Diego, and every chance he could thereafter. Some of his news surprised her, but she was always glad to hear from him, and always wrote back as soon as she received his letter. She read the news every day, praying that this time Jack would be wrong, that the war would end before any harm could come to him.

Due to the fact that mail was censored, most of what Thomas wrote home about was general information about where they were—nothing specific that could have alerted the enemy to their position—everyday life, the people that he was with, and events that occurred, both battles and everyday events.

Rose was surprised to learn that David Sinclair was there as well, and was a part of Thomas' regiment. Thomas wrote that he seemed to miss Myrtle, and wondered about Emily Elaine and the child Myrtle had been carrying when she left, but despite searching for them, he had never found any trace of them.

Rose wondered sourly if he'd ever tried looking at a moving picture. With the number of them Myrtle and Emily Elaine had been in, it was almost sure that he would have seen them at some point if he was watching. It was probably just as well, though—Myrtle showed little desire to go back to him, only occasionally speaking of him at all, and Rose knew that Thomas hadn't told David where his wife was.

Rose treasured every letter she received, though some filled her heart with fear—especially when Thomas wrote about battles he had been in and the weapons that were used. He could easily be killed, and she knew it. But every letter meant that he was still alive, and for that she was grateful.

XXXXX

Late in January of 1918, Rose was finishing a letter to Thomas when a man in uniform stepped onto the set of her latest picture. She glanced at him, but soon went back to what she was doing, assuming that he was an extra who had gotten lost.

It wasn't until the director pointed towards her and the man in uniform walked slowly toward her, a grim expression on his face, that Rose looked up again, realizing now that the man wasn't an actor. Her heart began to pound with dread as he walked towards her, an envelope in his hand.

"Mrs. Calvert?" he asked, his face showing both weariness and sympathy.

Rose tried to speak, choked, and tried again. "Yes?" she asked, praying that whatever he had to say, it wasn't too serious.

He handed her the envelope, watching as she opened it with shaking hands. "Mrs. Calvert, it's about your husband…"

Rose took the piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. Her expression changed to shock, and then horror, as she read the telegram.

"No!" she cried, dropping the telegram to the floor. "No, no! Thomas! Oh, God, no!"


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

"Mrs. Calvert. Mrs. Calvert?" The director stood over her, fidgeting uncomfortably as she sobbed. "Mrs. Calvert, what's wrong? What did the letter say?"

Rose didn't answer him, but instead put her head down on the table she had been using to write her letter. The ink from her letter ran as her tears fell on it, mixing with her heavy makeup and staining her cheek an odd shade of blue. Finally, she choked out, "I want my mother…"

"Mrs. Calvert…" The director sighed. "What did the letter say?"

Rose kicked the telegram towards him. "Please find my mother."

The director picked the crumpled telegram up, reading the message, then turned and spoke quietly to an assistant. A moment later, the assistant hurried off, heading for the costuming department to find Ruth.

The woman who did Rose's makeup came over, gently coaxing her to lift her head. "Now, Mrs. Calvert, look what a mess your face is…but I have just the thing to remove this ink. We'll have this fixed in no time…"

"Go away," Rose mumbled, her shoulders shaking. "Go away!"

"Mrs. Calvert…" The director spoke quietly. "We're on a tight shooting schedule here, as you know…"

"Leave me alone!" Rose snapped, turning her tear-streaked face to look at him. "I'm not working today. Now, go get my mother like I told you!"

The director looked a little taken aback. He was used to actors who showed up late, delayed shooting, and complained that things weren't right, but Rose wasn't usually one of them. "Mrs. Calvert, I'm aware that you've just suffered a tragedy…"

"Then why don't you act like it? Where's your heart?"

"Mrs. Calvert…" The director stopped, not sure what to do. It was true that he was over budget and that the filming had run far longer than expected, but he'd had actors called away to the war, and actresses who had dropped out for reasons similar to Rose's. This time, though, Rose was his star, and he couldn't simply scream at her, threaten her, or force the issue. She obviously wasn't going to work at the moment, and if he tried to force her to do so, she might go so far as to walk away from the whole picture, and if she did, he could kiss it good-bye. There had been too many problems already. His reputation for being both brilliant and difficult was well-deserved, but his star was just as stubborn as he was, as he was now finding out.

He was distracted for a moment by the return of his assistant, Myrtle Sinclair following after him. He turned on the man, his eyes boring into the young woman behind him.

"Jimmy, I told you to bring Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, not…whoever this is."

"Her name's Myrtle Sinclair, and she's a friend of Mrs. Calvert's. Mrs. DeWitt Bukater is working on a set in another part of the city. She'll be here as soon as she can."

Rose was hunched over the table. No longer crying, she just stared blankly at the rough wood, not looking up until Myrtle placed a hand on her shoulder. "Rose? Rose, what happened?"

Rose jumped, startled, and looked up at Myrtle, her eyes red and her face pinched with misery. "It's Thomas," she told her dully, her voice quivering. "I got a telegram…"

"Oh, Rose…" Myrtle sat down next to her, putting a comforting arm around her. "Rose, I'm so sorry…"

Rose nodded, leaning her head wearily on Myrtle's shoulder, her tears flowing anew. "I knew something was going to happen, but I never thought it would be this…"

Myrtle just hugged her and rocked her as a mother would a child.

XXXXX

Ruth arrived about half an hour later. She hurried onto the set, her eyes searching for her daughter. When she saw her, she was at her side in an instant.

"Rose…Rose, what happened? Mr. Brockman called the set I was working at twenty minutes ago and said that something had happened to you, and that I needed to come right away, but he didn't say what. Rose, what is it? What happened?"

Rose lifted her tear-streaked face to look at her mother. "I got a telegram."

Ruth's hand flew to her mouth. "Thomas?"

Rose nodded miserably. "Yes."

"What did it say?"

"It said…it said…" Rose choked, picking up the crumpled paper and handing it to her mother.

Ruth read it, her eyes widening. "He's missing in action and presumed dead? Oh, Rose…I'm so sorry…"

Rose clung to her. "I…I knew that _something_ was going to happen, but I never expected it to be this. I'd hoped…hoped that it wouldn't be something very bad…a broken arm, or…or trenchfoot, or something…but I prayed I wouldn't lose him…"

"Rose, you don't know for sure that you've lost him. They didn't find a body, so he could be alive somewhere."

"I knew that something was going to happen, Mother. I've known it for a long time." Rose's voice was dull and quiet now.

"You couldn't have known, Rose."

"Yes, I did. I knew, and…I let him go to war anyway. I should have forced him to stay home…done something that would have made it impossible for him to fight, or…or something. He would have been better off in jail than…than this."

"Rose, you can't blame yourself. This is wartime. These things…these things happen. You had no way of knowing how things would turn out."

Rose looked up at her, her mouth trembling. "Yes, I did. I knew that something bad was going to happen."

"How did you know?"

Rose turned away, knowing that neither Ruth nor Myrtle, nor any of the cast and crew who were pretending not to listen, would understand about Jack's visits to her after his death.

"I just did. It was…intuition, I suppose."

Inwardly, she cried out. _Jack! Jack, why did you leave me alone to face this? You were wrong. I'm not strong enough. I don't know what I'll do…now that I've lost both of you._


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

_Switzerland  
January, 1918_

The man awoke, not knowing where he was or what had happened. He was lying on a narrow cot, covered by a white sheet and white blanket. The room was brightly lit, so he could see the forms of several veiled women moving amongst the beds. The room had a strong medicinal smell.

_Where am I?_ he wondered. He tried to remember how he had gotten there, but nothing came to mind. He knew that the women in the room were nuns, probably working as nurses, and that he was in some sort of hospital or infirmary, but where he was or how he had gotten there was a mystery.

Looking to either side, he saw other men lying in the beds, some asleep, most bandaged or with their arms in slings or their legs in traction. Slowly, he tried to sit up, but couldn't quite make it.

"Monsieur!" One of the nuns hurried over when she saw him attempting to sit up. When he stared at her blankly, she realized that he didn't understand French, and tried another language. "Mein Herr…" Still no response. "Signor…" When he didn't respond to French, German, or Italian—the languages that she spoke—she glanced through the brief chart of information about him and realized that he was an American and most likely spoke English. Turning, she waved over a young nun who had been helping a patient with two broken arms drink a cup of water. "Soeur Nora!"

The nun hurried over. "Oui?"

They spoke rapidly in French, and then the young nun turned to the man, smiling as the older nun moved to take over the task she had abandoned. "Sir? I'm Sister Nora. Do you speak English?"

She had a heavy Irish brogue, which confused him for a moment, but soon he nodded his head. The questions came pouring out. "Where am I? What happened? How did I get here?"

The nun listened patiently, then answered his questions. "You're in Switzerland, sir, just across the border from France. It's a neutral country. We're not involved in the war, but we do have hospital facilities. As to what happened, we think you were caught in an air raid just on the other side of the border, which happened a little over a week ago. Two children and their dog found you lying just inside the Swiss border and told the police, who brought you here."

"How long have I been here?"

"A week. You'd suffered a blow to the head and might have been wandering around. Your left leg was badly injured, too…"

He lifted his head a little, looking toward where his legs were covered with the blanket. The left side didn't look quite right…it appeared shorter than the right side.

"I want to see."

"Sir…" Sister Nora glanced around uneasily. "Perhaps you should wait for the doctor…"

"No. I want to see it now."

Reluctantly, she pulled back the blanket and sheet, revealing a healthy right leg—and a left leg that ended in a bandaged stump just below the knee.

The man paled, staring at his leg. "What happened?"

"As I said, you were badly injured…gangrene set in and the doctors had to amputate to save your life."

"But…I don't understand…how can half of my leg be gone? I can still feel it…"

"Phantom pains, sir. They often occur after an amputation. They will go away in time, I can assure you."

He shook his head. "I can feel my toes…they hurt."

"But it isn't real. Your toes aren't there anymore."

"I can see that." He put his head down as she covered him again. "You said I was caught in an air raid?"

"That's what the police thought when they brought you here. The timing was right, and your injuries are consistent—"

"How did I get caught in an air raid? And why was I in France? Am I French?" He could imagine France, but not why he had been there.

She frowned. "You're an American, sir. You were wearing an American uniform when you were brought here, showing that you're a part of the American army."

He stared at her, not understanding. American? France? The Army? Why couldn't he remember any of it?

"Do you not remember, sir?"

He shook his head. "No."

As he thought harder, some faint images began to return to him…the sound of explosions…men shouting and screaming…the buzz of airplanes overhead…and then the memory of a weeping redheaded woman clinging to him, three children at her side. He didn't know who she was, or who the children were, though, nor could he remember the details of the air raid, or where he had been at the time, or what he had been doing.

Sister Nora looked at him cautiously. "Sir? Do you know your name?"

He thought for a moment, trying to recall, then slowly shook his head, only now feeling the dull ache. "No."

She picked up his chart, consulting it. "We don't know your full name. Your identification had been lost, and all that we found to tell who you are was a water-damaged letter in your pocket. It was addressed to a Thomas, but the rest of the letter was so badly damaged that we couldn't read it. Is that your name, sir? Are you Thomas?"

He frowned, trying to think. He wasn't sure if that was his name or not, but why would he have been carrying a letter addressed to someone else?

Finally, he nodded. "I think so."

"All right, Thomas. Do you know your last name?"

Thomas closed his eyes, trying to think, but no name came to mind. What did come to mind was the red-haired woman, begging him not to go. He couldn't quite place her, but something about her seemed familiar…was she his wife, perhaps? If she was his wife, then she must share his name, but what name was that?

Finally, a glimmer of an idea came to him. It made no sense why the name appeared as though it were in movie credits, but then, nothing made sense now…phantom pains…no memory of who he was or how he had gotten here…why shouldn't the woman's name appear as a moving picture credit? Her name was Rose Dawson, and if she was his wife, then that meant that his name was…

"Dawson," he told Sister Nora. "My name is Thomas Dawson."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

_February, 1918_

Rose awoke abruptly, her body drenched in cold sweat. The dream had been real…so real that she could almost swear it was really happening.

It wasn't, of course. She wasn't traveling in her dreams anymore. True to his word, this time Jack had not returned, and she hadn't had any of the otherworldly dreams since. Still, this one—and the dreams of previous nights—had seemed real, so real.

Thomas had been there. She hadn't been able to speak to him or touch him, but he had seemed real. He had been in a tiny hospital in a land covered with snow. It had seemed peaceful there, not torn by war, in spite of the injured men surrounding Thomas. She hadn't been able to see what was wrong with him, or why he was there. All she knew was that she had seen him.

_Could it be a sign?_ she wondered. _I've had this dream every night for the last two weeks. Surely it means something._

She slipped out of bed, walking into the bathroom and staring at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible—her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes from too many sleepless nights. The children sensed that something was wrong, though she hadn't said anything to them about their father's disappearance.

_Sure the dreams mean something_, she chided herself. _They're a product of wishful thinking. You always did have a vivid imagination. They don't mean anything more than that you miss Thomas and wish he were here, but he isn't. Most likely, he never will be. He's disappeared, and there is no body. Dreaming of him in a peaceful place probably means that he's gone to heaven—even if there are injured men around him. With a certainty, Europe isn't a peaceful place right now. If his body ever is found, it will be buried without a name, another unknown soldier._

Rose splashed her face with cool water and returned to bed. She had to get some sleep so that she could go to work the next day. She was her children's only support now. To be sure, there was a pension for war widows—but only if the death was proven. No one could be sure if Thomas was dead or not.

That was her only comfort. What if, by some twist of fate, he was still alive? It wasn't likely, but stranger things had happened.

Rose shook her head and buried her face in her pillow. There was no use in wishing him back. He was gone, and she had to carry on alone. She couldn't let herself sink into dreams that weren't going to come true. She had three children who needed her.

But it was hard not to hope. She had lost the first man she had loved; how could fate be so unkind as to take the second from her? It didn't seem right. But then, since when was life fair? She had told her children often enough that life wasn't fair, and yet she seemed to expect fairness for herself.

Rose rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying not to cry. She missed Thomas so much. If there was hope, any hope at all, that he was still alive, she would cling to it, no matter how often she told herself not to. She couldn't do anything else. Whether he was alive or dead was out of her hands, and always had been, but it wasn't in her nature to give up hope—not until she was sure that there was no use in hoping anymore.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

_March 1, 1918_

"Mommy? Mommy!"

Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking at the bright morning sunshine as a little hand tugged on her arm.

"Mommy? I'm hungry."

Rose shook her head to clear it, her eyes settling first on the face of little Lora, then on the clock on the bedside table. Her eyes widened as she saw that it was already eight o'clock in the morning—she had overslept. She should have been up two hours ago.

"I'm sorry, darling. I slept in. Just let me wash my face, and I'll come downstairs and fix you some breakfast."

"Andy got some bread, but he dropped it and the puppy got it."

"Puppy?" They didn't own a dog.

"It was crying and he let it in."

"Oh, no." Rose put her head in her hands. Everything was going wrong this morning—and she was late for work, too. "Excuse me, Lora, darling. If you'll go downstairs, I'll be right there."

"Mommy…"

"Go on, Lora. I'll get your breakfast soon."

When Rose came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she heard a childish giggle and a puppy yelping. Throwing on her robe, she hurried downstairs.

Her three children were sitting on the floor of the front room, still in their nightclothes. A scrawny, unbelievably filthy puppy darted from one to the next, yipping and wagging its tail. It started to chase its tail, then looked up and saw Rose at the foot of the stairs. Yipping as fiercely as it could, it raced toward her, then stopped and squatted, making a puddle on her clean floor.

Rose took a deep breath, then lost her temper. "Andrew Calvert! What is that dog doing in this house!"

The little boy stared at her, his expression somewhere between defiance and tears. "He wanted in."

"You know what I've told you about strange dogs!"

"But he's a puppy! He was crying…" Andrew started wailing. The other two children quickly joined in.

Rose stared at them, at a loss as to what to do. She knew that she should comfort them, assure them that everything was all right. Then she should catch the puppy and put it back outside…or at least insist that it stay in the backyard until she could give it a bath and decide what to do with it.

But she had been under a lot of strain for a long time, and she wanted someone to comfort her and assure her that everything was all right. It wasn't, though, and no one could make it right—certainly not the three crying children who were clinging to each other instead of to her.

Rose bit her lip, wanting to cry, too. She couldn't tell them that their father was missing—they wouldn't understand, and even if they could, it would only frighten them. She had to be strong for the sake of her children—even if she didn't feel very strong right now.

She looked down, startled, as the puppy, frightened by the sudden tears from the children, looked for a place to hide—and chose to crawl under her nightgown, which extended all the way to the floor. It curled up, trembling, wanting to be comforted, too.

Rose just stared at everything—her crying children, the mess on the floor, the tip of the puppy's tail extending from under her nightgown—and surprised everyone, including herself, by sitting down on the bottom step and bursting into tears. It was too much. She hadn't felt a moment's peace since Thomas had left, and it had been even harder since she had received the telegram telling her that he was missing. This morning had been the last straw.

The three children stared at their mother, shocked out of their own tears. In an instant, the little group ran to her, all three trying to crawl into her lap. Little Jack finally succeeded, while the other two clung to her, all three crying in sympathy with her now. The puppy crawled out from under her nightgown and tried to climb the step, then sat on her feet and whined.

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean to be bad!" Andrew wailed, his arms wrapped around her neck.

Rose sniffed, trying to stop her tears. "You're not bad, Andrew. You really aren't."

"Then why doesn't Daddy come home?"

At that, Rose started crying again. "It isn't your fault, Andrew. It isn't any of your faults. Your daddy is away fighting in that stupid war."

"He's gonna come back, isn't he, Mommy?"

"Of…of course he is, Andrew. When the war's over, he'll come home."

She had hesitated only for a moment, but the boy had caught it. "No, he's not! You're just sayin' that! He ain't never comin' back!"

Rose took a deep breath. She didn't want him to know that he was right, that his father was never going to come back. He wasn't even five years old yet; he was too young to have to face such things.

"He'll come back, Andrew. I know he will. We just have to be patient."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"He will." Rose felt terrible about lying to him, but she didn't know what else she could do. She couldn't tell the little boy the truth.

Lora pulled the puppy into her lap and petted it as it struggled to sit upright in the child's tight grip. "Mommy, if Daddy doesn't come back, can we keep the puppy?"

Rose looked at the pleading faces of her three children. "He will come back, Lora." She wiped her eyes, hugging Jack before setting him down beside his siblings. "But I suppose we can keep the puppy, if his owner doesn't come looking for him." Perhaps the animal would be of comfort to the children—and to her—when it finally became obvious that Thomas wasn't going to return.

Lora and Jack squealed and hugged the yelping animal, but Andrew still looked at her uncertainly. "Does that mean Daddy's not coming back?"

Rose hugged him, wishing that he wasn't so perceptive. "No, Andrew. He'll come back. I'm sure of it. I just…I know you want the puppy."

Andrew looked at her, his eyes sad and too knowledgeable for such a young child. "Okay, Mommy."

Rose could tell he didn't quite believe her, even though he wanted to. She wished she could tell him the truth, but he was too young, even if he did seem to understand more than she wanted him to.

Instead, she hugged him again, then got up slowly, tightening the sash on her robe. "Why don't we go into the kitchen for breakfast? I'll make us all a good breakfast as soon as I call the studio and tell them I won't be coming in today. Then—then we can give the puppy a bath and go to the park. Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy." The twins ran towards the kitchen, looking forward to breakfast, but Andrew clung to Rose as she went to the telephone to make her call. Rose finally just picked him up and held him tight, hoping that by some miracle what she had told him would come true, and somehow, his father really would come home.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

_March 1918_

"And how are you feeling today, Mr. Dawson?" Sister Nora took Thomas's wheelchair and pushed him over near a window. In spite of the fact that it was not yet spring, there had been a few bright, sunny days, and today was one.

Thomas just grunted, not saying anything. His memory was beginning to return, and one of the latest things he had remembered was that his last name wasn't really Dawson. That was his wife's maiden name and stage name. But along with the return of his memory of his real last name—Calvert—had come the memory of who his wife and family were—and he was afraid that if he gave his real name, someone would contact them and tell them where he was and what had happened to him.

He still hadn't come to terms with the loss of his leg. It was still painful, and no amount of exercise or treatment would ever make it completely better. He would never be able to walk the way he had before, even though the doctors had assured him that there were very good prosthetic devices that would enable him to walk again.

He had been assured that by the time he was fully healed he wouldn't even need crutches, let alone the wheelchair, but he found it hard to believe. He couldn't even move the wheelchair around very well, though Sister Nora had exasperatedly informed him that if he practiced, he would be able to get around as well as any of the other men who had been there for a while.

But he didn't really want to try. Trying meant getting better, and eventually facing the reality of his life at home. He couldn't face the possibility of rejection.

Try as he might to suppress the thoughts, he feared that Rose would reject him now that he was no longer whole and healthy. She was a beautiful, successful moving picture actress. She could have any man she wanted. Why would she want a man who was a cripple, who would never look completely normal or walk normally?

The logical part of his mind told him that he was being ridiculous. Rose wouldn't reject him just because he had been injured; she'd been through too much and seen too much to do that. She loved him and was devoted to him.

But another part didn't believe it. He loved Rose more than he could say, but deep inside, he found it hard to believe that she could continue to return his love after what had happened, after he had been gone so long and been injured so badly. He hadn't even remembered who she was until recently.

And that was the crux of the matter. A part of him couldn't believe that Rose would still love and care for him even after he had forgotten who she was, who their children were, even who he was himself. And if he continued to let the doctors and nurses think that he didn't remember who he was, he would never be sent home to face her.

More than anything, he feared her rejection. As much as he loved her, he couldn't face that thought. It was better if he never returned, if she never knew what had happened to him. He had been a lawyer before the war, and he knew that he would eventually be declared dead, leaving her free to marry someone else.

He didn't want to lose her, didn't want to give her up, but he felt that it was inevitable, and if she never found out what had happened to him, then he would never know whether she would have rejected him or not. Much as he hated the thought of never seeing her again, it was better than losing her after he had had a chance to reunite with her and fully remember how much he loved her.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

_April, 1918_

"…_then up he rose, and donned his clothes, and dupped the chamber door…_" Rose strode across the makeshift stage in the hospital recreation room, throwing her head back and pulling at her hair as she recited one of Ophelia's speeches from the Shakespeare play _Hamlet_.

The wounded men assembled in the room watched her, some not caring what she was doing, others enthralled. It wasn't often that a moving picture starlet came to entertain them, and Rose was both beautiful and talented.

Rose had been volunteering at the hospital for almost a month, doing dramatic readings, monologues, and even scenes from her pictures, both past and present. More than one veteran had vowed to see her pictures once he got out of the hospital.

Thomas had been missing for almost three months, and Rose was beginning to accept that he wouldn't be found, that he wouldn't come back. She still had hope, but it was growing fainter every day. Nevertheless, she checked the faces of every bandaged or disfigured man who entered the hospital, hoping that it was him. She didn't care if he came back badly wounded or disfigured; she just wanted him to come home.

Finishing her monologue, Rose stood frozen for three seconds, then bowed, smiling at the applause and cheers from the men who had been paying attention. In spite of the situation, she liked the attention and the applause. Her flair for the dramatic had appalled her mother when she was a child, but now Ruth was proud of her daughter, bragging to anyone who would listen about what a wonderful actress her daughter was, and it had been Ruth who had encouraged her to volunteer at the hospital.

Rose was glad that she had done so. She enjoyed expanding her skills as an actress, enjoyed cheering up the men in the hospital, many of whom were far from home and had no family or friends nearby. Making their lives better, even for a short time, helped her to forget her own troubles. She had seen more than enough of pain and suffering in her life, and it made her feel better to ease the pain of others.

"Mommy!" Andrew ran up to her, clambering up on the stage and throwing his arms around her legs, raising a few chuckles from the watching veterans, some of whom were reminded of younger brothers or children or even grandchildren. The men in this wing of the hospital were all veterans, not only of the current war, but also of other wars, a few going back as far as the Mexican War, now some seventy years past.

Rose picked him up and hugged him, then set him back on his feet. She occasionally brought the children with her, and today was one of those days. Some veterans were cheered by the sight of the children, though others ignored them or yelled at them for being there. The children had quickly learned which ones were friendly, and gravitated towards them.

"What's going on, Andrew?"

"Mr. Beaumont is talking about the Battle of Bull Run!" Andrew told her excitedly.

Rose sighed. Thaddeus Beaumont was seventy-five, a veteran of the Civil War on the northern side, and he never tired of telling the children stories about that war, or of telling them about how glorious it had been. Andrew had even expressed a desire to go to war himself, and Rose was very glad that he wasn't yet five years old, much too young to go to war. She could only hope that those who said that this would be the war to end all wars were right. It was hard enough for her to be separated from Thomas, not knowing for certain whether he was alive or dead, but sending her son off to war would be even harder.

She followed Andrew as he darted back to Mr. Beaumont, who had a twin on each knee and was gesturing wildly and making sounds, making the twins giggle in delight.

When Andrew ran up to him, he picked him up, too, somehow managing to hold all three children in his lap. He sighed when Rose walked up, glaring at him.

"Mr. Beaumont," she said, her voice crisp, "how many times do I have to tell you not to tell such stories to my children? It puts ideas into their heads—ideas that they're much too young for. Andrew wants to go off to war—and he isn't even five years old yet."

"Ah…don't deny me my fun, Mrs. Calvert." He winked at her, giving her a grin that made her soften in spite of her annoyance. "I'm just an old man who hardly ever sees his family anymore."

"But you don't need to tell them stories about the glory of war! There's nothing glorious about it. My husband—their father—is out there somewhere, fighting a war without a reason."

"Of course there's a reason! There's always a reason!" The children looked up as he raised his voice.

"Then what is that reason? What reason does this country have for being in this war?"

He looked taken aback. "Damned if I know." Rose cringed, wishing he wouldn't use such language in front of the three small children. "But I know there is one. When I find out what it is, I'll tell you."

"You do that." Rose looked at the children. "It's about time to go home."

"Mommy!" Three little voices whined in unison.

"I'm done for today, darlings. And Mr. Beaumont has told you enough stories."

"Mrs. Calvert!" Beaumont puffed out his chest, offended. "Need I remind you that the war I fought in freed the slaves and put this country back together? This country wouldn't be what it is today without that war."

"I know that, Mr. Beaumont. But I don't understand why you keep speaking of the glory of war. I know my history, and war is a bloody thing, leaving no one it touches unscathed. Just look at the men around you! You wouldn't be here yourself if weren't for an old injury from the war you speak so fondly of."

"Mrs. Calvert, I do remember all the blood and death. But I also remember the joy of winning and the excitement. I've never been one to dwell on bad things, and I prefer to remember the glories of past times."

"But you're teaching my children to long for something that could get them killed, that destroys lives and families. I won't deny that sometimes the outcome of war is a world better than the one before, but the cost is…horrendous. My husband is over there somewhere. I don't know where, and there's nothing glorious about not knowing. Wars should be fought only when absolutely necessary, and teaching children that war is something to look forward to only encourages them to grow up and start unnecessary wars. You can tell them stories, but don't glorify war to them. I won't have it, and won't let you see them if you can't stop telling them such stories. Their father is out there fighting, and I don't want any of them to have to follow that same path."

Rose took the twins from him, balancing them on her hips. A reluctant Andrew climbed down from Mr. Beaumont's lap, giving him a smile and a wave before following his mother out of the room.

Rose sighed. She knew that the old man liked the children, and that the children liked him, but she didn't want them believing that war was something to be looked forward to. Not when their father was out there in the midst of one.

Not when their father was probably never coming home.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

_May, 1918_

"Are you ready to go, Mr. Calvert?" Sister Nora asked, approaching Thomas as he sat in his wheelchair before the open window, staring out at the sunlight and spring flowers.

Thomas sighed inwardly, showing no sign that he knew who she was talking to. He had long since remembered that his name was Calvert, not Dawson, but he didn't want to return home to Los Angeles. As long as he was here in Switzerland, he didn't have to face Rose's reaction.

"Mr. Calvert." Sister Nora took his wheelchair and began pushing it away from the window. "I know you don't believe that your last name is Calvert, but it is. Mr. Sinclair told us."

"I don't remember who he is, either," Thomas replied, speaking to her at last. He had been withdrawn for several days, ever since David Sinclair, his old neighbor and a member of his regiment, had been brought to the Swiss hospital with a mild case of mustard gas inhalation. He hadn't been able to speak at first, but when he had recovered enough, he hadn't hesitated to greet Thomas, whom he had thought dead, and tell all of the nurses, doctors, and patients who Thomas really was.

Some people had looked at Thomas suspiciously after that, since he hadn't told them his real name, but he continued to pretend that he didn't know his name, and that he didn't believe that his real name was Thomas Calvert.

He knew better, of course, and had for a long time, but he wasn't about to admit it. David had asked him if had ever heard from Myrtle, and Thomas had pretended not to know that, either. He still didn't quite trust Myrtle, but he wasn't about to tell her husband where she was. Who knew what he might do to her if he found her?

Now, however, due to David's intervention, everyone knew what Thomas's real name was and where he lived in the United States. He would never return to battle—his injuries had been too severe, and he would never be sufficiently recovered to fight again—but he was well enough to return home. He didn't want to, but he couldn't say so, because questions would be asked, and the fact that he remembered far more than he let on might be discovered.

Sister Nora stopped outside the room that Thomas had inhabited since he had been brought to the hospital several months before. Going inside, she returned with the bag holding his few belongings and his tickets home. Handing him the bag, she began to push his wheelchair towards the hospital entrance.

"You should be happy, Mr. Calvert. You're going home. Think of all the men who will never go home, who will never see their families again. You're alive, and you'll be fine soon enough—I'm sure of it. I overheard you talking about California to Mr. Sinclair, so you're remembering things. And once you're back with your family, things will get easier. Why, me own father lost his memory just like you did, and once he came back to us, he was fine. It wasn't long at all before he knew everything he'd known before—and a lot more. I hear your wife is a moving picture actress, so just think of what it'll be like to see her again. You might not recognize her, but she'll recognize you, and I'll bet she's quite a beauty. Those actresses most always are."

Thomas was sure that Rose would recognize him—and then he'd have to watch the love he'd always seen in her eyes turn to disgust and pity. She might feel sympathy for him, to be sure, but things would never be the same. Of that, he was certain.

Sister Nora pushed him out the front door, where a car was waiting to take him to the train station. There would be doctors and nurses traveling along, and well as others who had been wounded, so he wouldn't be on his own, but it also meant that he wouldn't be able to slip away and find a way to avoid returning home. Due to his 'amnesia', he would be watched every second to be sure nothing happened to him.

"Take care of yourself now, Mr. Calvert. You'll be back with your family before you know it. Just think of how happy they'll be to see you."

"I suppose." Thomas wasn't looking forward to going home, and he couldn't pretend enthusiasm he didn't feel.

XXXXX

Thomas sat in his wheelchair at the back of the crowd of wounded veterans in the hospital in Los Angeles. Rose was on the makeshift stage at the front of the room, acting out a scene from one of her pictures. A number of men, some of them less severely wounded than Thomas, watched her with rapt attention. He didn't like seeing the amount of attention the other men paid to her, but he supposed that it was only natural. She was a beautiful woman, and she was doing her best to keep the wounded men's spirits up.

Had any of them approached her? He hoped that none had, but knew that it was possible. And she might assume by now that he wasn't coming back—he had been missing almost five months—and responded to the attention of one of them.

He couldn't blame her. Why should she wait for a man who had been missing for months, of whom there had been no word, who she probably now assumed to be dead? And he was badly injured, missing a leg now—what kind of a husband would he be? She was beautiful and spirited, quickly becoming more and more well-known for her film work—she could have her pick of men. What would she possibly want with someone like him?

As Rose bowed to her audience and left the stage, Thomas's eyes wandered over the men sitting in the room. He recognized one or two, but not many. There were a few other visitors amongst them, including some children, and Thomas suddenly wished strongly that he could see his own children. But it would be impossible to see them without Rose finding out, and if she didn't already know that he was here, he didn't want her to find out.

The initial plan had been to send him straight home after arranging for a doctor to see to his healing stump and fit him with a prosthesis, but he had sunk into such a deep depression on the way back to America that the doctor in charge of him had decided not to send him home right away, but rather to give him a chance to recover further and reacclimatize to civilian life first.

And so he had been sent to this hospital in Los Angeles. It wasn't far from his home—only about five miles—but he had made no effort to alert Rose to the fact that he was back, and had hoped that she wouldn't find out.

Perhaps he shouldn't have come to watch her perform, but he hadn't been able to resist seeing her, if only from the back of a crowded room. Amongst all the wounded men and their visitors, what were the chances that she would ever glimpse him anyway?

But even as he thought about it, Rose came through the crowd, stopping and speaking to three young children sitting next to an old man—their children, he realized, wishing that he could go to them—and continued walking, looking at the face of every man she saw, even if it was bandaged or disfigured. With a start, he realized she was looking for him.

Did she know that he was there, or did she just hope that, by some miracle, he would be there amongst the wounded men, injured but alive? He turned his face away, not wanting her to see him. She wouldn't look so hopeful once she'd actually caught sight of him. He was certain she wouldn't look happy, either.

Ducking his head, he began to wheel himself away, but at that moment Rose caught sight of him. A cry of joy burst from her as she hitched up her skirts and raced in his direction.

"Thomas!"

He froze, not sure whether to stay where he was or try to get away. The decision was taken from him as Rose launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him.

Thomas sat stiffly as Rose embraced him, not knowing what to do. Puzzled by his lack of response, Rose pulled back.

"Thomas?"

Her look of joy turned to one of shock as she saw him staring blankly at her, giving no indication that he knew who she was.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

_May 20, 1918_

"Mrs. Calvert! Mrs. Calvert!"

Rose turned in surprise as one of the nurses called to her, stopping her just before she reached the receptionist's desk.

"Yes, Nurse Peterson? Can I help you with something?"

"Mrs. Calvert, it's about your husband."

Rose frowned, a little worried. It had been two days since she had learned that Thomas was alive, and this was the first time she had been back to the hospital to see him. She had intended to go the day before, but both of the twins had been sick with some sort of stomach bug, and she hadn't wanted to either take them out of the house or leave them with anyone.

Today, after finishing filming early in the morning, she had driven to the hospital, hoping against hope that this time Thomas would show some sign of recognizing her. She had attempted to speak to him that first day, but he had given no response, in spite of the other men egging him on to acknowledge his wife.

She had managed to keep the children from realizing he was there—she didn't want them to see their father and then be hurt if he didn't recognize them. She didn't know quite what had happened to her husband, but she did wonder if his failure to recognize her now was in any way related to his having been missing for so many months.

"What about my husband?" Rose asked, abruptly coming back to the present.

"Well, Mrs. Calvert, he…he refuses to speak to anyone. We know that he can speak—one of the night nurses heard him talking in his sleep the day he first came to the hospital—but he won't speak to any of us while he's awake, or to the doctors or other patients. He's been here two days, and he has yet to consciously speak to any of us."

Rose nodded. "He didn't acknowledge that he knew me that day, but…could he have suffered some sort of head trauma?"

Nurse Peterson nodded. "That's what his records from the army indicate. He was in a hospital in Switzerland for months. He called himself Thomas Dawson there—he may have been thinking that your screen name was his last name—and even when it was discovered that he is actually Thomas Calvert, he refused to acknowledge his real name."

"I was on my way to see him, but I don't know if I can convince him that Calvert is his real name, or convince him to speak."

Nurse Peterson shifted nervously. "We were hoping that you would try to talk to him. You've had some success at bringing traumatized men out of their shells before, and we hoped that you would be able to help him. And he is your husband, after all. You've been hoping to have him come back for months."

"Yes." Rose nodded. "Yes, I have. That was one of the reasons that I started volunteering here. I was hoping that he would be brought here, no matter what condition he was in. But now that he's here—I don't know why he doesn't recognize me. I'm his wife. We've been together for almost six years. I didn't even tell the children that he's here, because I didn't want them to be hurt if he didn't remember them."

"Sometimes people who've had head injuries suffer from amnesia. There's different depths of amnesia, and it may be that he would remember them, but not you. It may even be that he remembers some things about you, but not others—after all, he did call himself Dawson, which is your screen name. The doctors do all that they can, but sometimes it just takes time, and sometimes…sometimes things never do get better. But I do know that you're very good at bringing the men out of their shells, and your are his wife…who knows? Maybe spending time with you is just what he needs."

Rose sighed, her hands tightening on her purse. She had tucked pictures of the family into it, hoping that they would spark something in his memory. Finally, she nodded.

"I came here to see him anyway, so I'll do what I can. What room is he in?"

"He's in the first room on the second floor. I'll take you there and tell the doctor what you're going to be doing."

"All right." Rose took a deep breath, hoping that this time he would know who she was, hoping that this time, he would acknowledge her presence.

XXXXX

"Thomas?" Rose entered the room uncertainly, her hands clenched tightly around the handle of her purse.

Thomas turned from where he was sitting in his wheelchair, gazing out the window. He almost smiled at the sight of his wife, but stopped himself in time. He couldn't let her know that he remembered her. Not until he knew how she felt about him.

Sighing, he turned back to the window, not acknowledging her. It hurt to see her there, so beautiful and hopeful. She didn't know yet about his missing leg, and he didn't want to think about how her expression would change when she found out.

"Thomas?" Rose took a chair from beside one of the beds and set it next to him, sitting beside him. "How are you feeling today?"

He almost answered, but instead shrugged and went back to looking out the window after a quick glance at her.

"Thomas…" Rose paused, not sure what to say. It had been easier to talk to men that she didn't know, easier to know what to say. Thomas was her husband, and if she said the wrong thing…she might ruin things for both of them.

"Thomas, about the other day…I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I was so glad to see you—you'd been missing since January, and all that time I'd been hoping that you'd come back. And when I saw you—I couldn't help but run to you. I've missed you so much…"

He didn't answer. Frustrated, Rose turned to look directly at him. "Nurse Peterson told me that you've refused to speak to anyone. Why is that, Thomas? You always liked talking to people before, and we know that you can speak—she said you were talking in your sleep the other night. Why won't you speak to anyone now?"

Thomas looked at her. He longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, to ask her how the children and his sister were doing. But he couldn't do that. It would be easier to let her love for him fade away from neglect than to have her reject him outright.

Instead, he shrugged, then casually reached to rub the healing stump of his leg. Rose's eyes followed the motion, widening when she saw that his leg was missing.

"Oh, Thomas…I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me you'd lost a leg?"

He still didn't answer. Sighing, Rose placed a hand on his knee. "Does it hurt very much?"

He just put his hands in his lap, not acknowledging the question.

Hurt and frustration surged up inside Rose. Why wouldn't he speak to her?

"Thomas, please, talk to me. I'm your wife. You can tell me anything."

Thomas glanced at her, debating whether to speak to her. She hadn't reacted as he had feared to his missing leg, but still…

He sighed, deciding at last to speak to her. "It doesn't hurt much."

Rose looked at him in surprise, amazed that he had spoken to her. Thomas misunderstood her surprise, believing that she was surprised at his lack of pain.

"It's been several months," he told her. "It's nearly healed now."

"Thomas, that's wonderful, but…why didn't you tell me before? You saw me the other day."

"You don't know me. You're a pretty girl, and a moving picture actress, but why would you be interested in whether my leg hurt or not?"

Rose gritted her teeth in frustration. "Thomas, I do know you. Didn't you hear me say that I'm your wife?"

"I don't know you. How can you be my wife? What would a movie star be doing with me?"

There. The question was out. He had asked it.

"I was your wife long before I was an actress. We have three children."

That didn't quite answer his question, but he couldn't rephrase it without acknowledging that he remembered her.

Rose sighed, looking at him. She reached into her purse. "Look, Thomas. I brought pictures of our family. This is us on our wedding day. And this is a portrait taken just before you left of all of us. This is Andrew, and these youngsters are Jack and Lora. Lora is named for your sister."

"I have a sister?"

"Yes. She's a nurse. She's going to come to see you as soon as she can. She's been working long hours, with wounded soldiers brought back from the war and everything."

"Do you have a picture of her?"

"Yes, I do." Rose shuffled through the photographs, finally finding one of Thomas and Lora two summers before.

Thomas stared at the picture for a few minutes, then took a photo of the three children and examined it.

"They look like wonderful children."

"They are, and they miss you very much. Thomas, please. They want you to come home, especially Andrew. The twins are very young and don't quite understand, but Andrew does, and he misses you very much. How long do you think you'll be here?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then I'll bring them here to see you."

"But I don't remember them. You've shown me these pictures, but how do I know they're real? How do I know you're not just someone I met and had pictures taken with?"

Rose sighed. "Thomas, you are my husband and the children's father. Trust me on that." She showed him the ring on her finger, which she took off only for filming. "You gave me this ring on our wedding day, and you have one that matches it…" She looked at his left hand. "Thomas, where's your ring?"

"What ring?"

"Your wedding ring."

"I didn't know I had one. I'm still not sure you're my wife. Why don't I remember you?"

"Nurse Peterson said that you had some kind of head trauma. That's probably why you don't remember me. As to your ring…you had one. Perhaps you lost it when you were in Europe, but it looked just like this one, but bigger."

Thomas looked at the ring on her finger, remembering their wedding day. He clearly remembered putting the ring on her finger, and her putting a ring on his, but he honestly had no idea what had happened to his ring. He might have lost it or had it stolen while he was in the war.

"If I ever had one. Forgive me, Miss Dawson—"

"Rose. Or Mrs. Calvert, if you don't believe I'm your wife."

"All right. Mrs. Calvert. I don't remember any of this. You're a beautiful movie star, and I don't know why you'd be with me, or what you'd want with me now, a man with no memory and missing a leg."

Rose stared at him, her heart sinking. He truly didn't remember her, and he truly seemed to believe that she was playing a game with him, though for what reason, she couldn't fathom. And why would his missing leg make any difference to her?

But somehow, he seemed to believe that it did.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

_May 25, 1918_

Rose walked through the front door of the hospital, checking her purse to be sure that the pictures she had tucked inside were still there.

For the past five days, she had been visiting Thomas every afternoon, bringing pictures of their lives together in an attempt to get him to remember his past.

So far, it didn't seem to be working. He looked at the pictures, admiring her and the children, but still appeared puzzled about his presence in many of them. There had been moments when she was sure he remembered, but then the moments passed, and he would shake his head, professing no knowledge of the events the pictures had been taken at.

Today, she had brought their wedding photo again, and the pictures of the children when they were newborns. Surely, if he remembered nothing else, he would remember those times. She was determined to bring back his memories of those days.

And if he still didn't remember…perhaps she could teach him about what had been between them before. She had to succeed. She didn't know what to do if he never regained his memory.

Nodding to the nurse at the desk, Rose stepped into the elevator, waiting for the operator to take her to Thomas's floor. She had been there often enough now that he knew her, and knew which floor to take her to.

Today, however, he stopped at a different floor. At Rose's puzzled look, he told her, "Your husband's been moved to the third floor, Mrs. Calvert. The doctors decided that he's well enough to be fitted with a prosthesis and taught to walk again."

"Did they say anything else? Did Thomas…regain any memories?"

"I don't know, ma'am. I only know this much because I was working the elevator when he was moved and I heard the nurses talking."

"All right. Thank you. Do you know what room he's in?"

He shook his head. "No. But I'm sure one of the nurses can tell you where to find him."

Rose sighed, but she was feeling a little more hopeful than she had when she had entered the hospital. If the doctors thought Thomas was getting better, it might mean that whatever had destroyed his memory was healing, too. Perhaps today was the day he would come back to her.

XXXXX

It didn't take Rose long to find Thomas. One of the nurses walked out of the third room on the left, looking frustrated. Seeing Rose, she put on a tense smile and came up to her.

"I'm assuming you're here to see your husband?" she asked, one hand clenching a stack of charts as though she were strangling them.

"Yes." Rose backed away a little; the woman didn't look happy.

"Good luck. He's in quite a mood today. When it was time for his physical therapy, he refused to get into his wheelchair and leave the room. When the physical therapist offered to come to him, he told him to leave and find someone who wanted his help. I just came from his room, and he told me to leave him alone and go home to my husband. I don't even have a husband!" She looked at Rose apologetically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said so much."

"No…no, it's all right. He has been difficult lately."

"Well, perhaps he'll be glad to see you. No one else is having any luck with him today."

Rose sighed. "I'll do my best." She turned towards the door. "Is this where he is?"

The nurse nodded. "Yes. Along with three men more badly wounded than he…and certainly more deserving of care right now!"

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Something had been frustrating him the past couple of days—perhaps it was his lack of memory, or perhaps memories were returning that he didn't like.

Opening the door cautiously, she stepped inside, looking along the row of beds until she spotted Thomas in the last one. She nodded in acknowledgment of the other three men, then headed towards her husband, pushing over his wheelchair when she reached it.

Thomas didn't look at her. Sighing, Rose sat down in the wheelchair herself, turning it so that she was facing him.

"Thomas."

He glanced at her, then looked away again, pretending that he hadn't heard her.

"Thomas!" When he still didn't respond, she stood, standing over him and glaring down at him. "Thomas Calvert, you look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

He finally gave her his attention. "What do you want?"

"I want you to get out of this bed and into this wheelchair, come out of here for a while, and start treating the people trying to help you with respect. That's what I want!"

"You can't always have what you want."

"Thomas!" Rose clenched her fists in frustration. "Stop acting like this! You never acted like this before you went away to war!"

"I wouldn't know."

"Sometimes I wonder." Rose leaned down, looking him right in the eye. "There have been times when it seemed like you were on the verge of remembering something, and you certainly have been difficult the past couple of days. I wonder how much you really don't remember."

He looked at her with what almost appeared to be panic, but the moment passed quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rose sighed deeply, sitting back down in the wheelchair. "Thomas, the doctors think you're getting better. They're going to fit you with a prosthesis soon and teach you to walk again. It doesn't matter how much you resist them; it's going to happen. And then you'll be sent home to me. Things will be a lot easier if you can get along with other people and not fight them when they're trying to help you."

"I don't need their help."

"Then prove it. Get the prosthesis and start walking again. I know you can do it."

"Leave me alone."

"No, Thomas. I won't leave you alone. You're my husband, and I love you—though sometimes I wonder why, with the way you've been acting the past few days."

Thomas looked up at her, not speaking. She said that she loved him, but how long would that last once he came home? How long would she want to live with a cripple? What would people say when Rose Dawson, the rising star, appeared in public with a man who was missing a leg? How long would it be before someone else—someone whole and healthy—swept her off her feet? Even if he went home, he would only be waiting for the day when she announced that she had found someone else and was leaving him.

Rose waited for him to say something. When he remained silent, she leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.

"Thomas, I'm bringing the children to visit tomorrow. You're well enough now to see them. They won't mind that you're missing a leg—at their age, it doesn't mean much. But you'd better acknowledge them and not say anything to hurt them. Because if you do, so help me God, Thomas, it's over between us. You can be angry and bitter with me, but those children are innocent. They have no part in any of this. If you do anything to hurt them, I'll divorce you. You may be a lawyer, but I have my share of contacts, too, and I can make sure you never see them—if you can even remember who they are. Money doesn't matter—I make more than you ever will."

They glared at each other. Thomas knew that Rose was serious, but her words only proved to him what he already thought—he wasn't good enough for her as he was, and she was looking for an excuse to end their marriage. He would hate to never see his children again, though, so he wouldn't say anything that might upset them.

Rose was trembling inside, fearing that Thomas truly would never regain his memory, and that his inability to remember her or their children—or how he had loved them—would spell the end of their marriage and the years of happiness she had known with him.

Standing, she walked towards the window, gazing out and keeping her back to the men in the room so they wouldn't see her tears. Thomas was back, but she didn't know if things would ever be the same.


End file.
